From Rebellious Noble to Warden Commander
by Raven Jadewolfe
Summary: "You are a Grey Warden first and foremost and must do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our world. Your personal attachments and prejudices have no bearing here." F-Cousland/Alistair Language/Lemons/Violence You have been warned. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at writing something outside of the Twi-Universe, other than poetry. I beg for your patience and understanding in this venture. I do not plan on staying canon to conversations held in the game nor adhering to just the events that happen in the game. Why? Because what's the use of writing a story if you're just going to be rehashing the game word for word? Oh, and I quite possibly dabble in multiple POV's, including Third person.**

**I own nothing copyrighted.**

"Come on Fergus, you promised me a full training session before you went off to play soldier with father!" the young woman protests, her eyes, green as flawless emeralds, flash with half humor, half annoyance at her opponent.

Her twin daggers, a sixteenth birthday present from her father, glint in the afternoon sun as she dances around the inert form of the young man she cannot help but taunt. He stands quiet, amused at his younger siblings playful ribbing, with his own matching swords ready to strike at the first opportunity.

"Lex, it's not my fault that father wants the family to have this get together tonight," he sighs and blocks a few half hearted jabs from the woman, "I'll have you know, I'd rather be spending my last night at home in bed with my wife instead of trapped in a room full of pompous idiots."

Lex executes a deadly pirouette, the waist length waves of her scarlet hair billowing out behind her as she moves, and forces Fergus to take a few steps back in order to avoid her blades, "Dammit Fergus, I really don't want to know what you and Oriana do behind closed doors, no matter how attractive and...flexible you claim her to be."

His lips curl up into a patronizing smirk as he parries her next attack, "That surprises me dear sister, especially since Oriana was telling me just the other day about how you were complaining to her that the newest maid servant needed a few lessons in stretching before even considering she could keep up with you."

As his words trail off, Lex spots a familiar figure coming their way and all previous amusement fades from her eyes. "I've got to go Ferg, I'll catch you up later," the young woman suddenly announces and sets off at a sprint in the opposite direction of the newcomer, disappearing around the corner just as she hears her brother greet the person.

Once she is sure that she is not being followed, Lex slinks over to the kennels to retrieve her best friend, a mabari hound aptly named Havoc. As she makes her way to his pen, the noblewoman takes time to converse with the Elvish kennel master whom she grew up viewing as more of an uncle rather than another elf indentured to the teryn.

When she arrives at the stall set aside for her companion though, she is perturbed at finding it empty. She turns back to the elf, "Kaiba, have you tended to Havoc since I put him in earlier?"

"No milady," the kennel master replies, "Maybe Darro put him in one of the outside pens, do you wish me to check for you?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose in exacerbation before shaking her head and exiting the stall, "Thanks, but don't trouble yourself Kaiba, I can get him on my own."

"As you wish milady," he exchanges a fond smile with her as she pads by in search of her troublesome friend.

Still uncomfortably aware that she is being pursued, Lex skirts around the more populated areas of the estate. Thankful that her parents allowed her to indulge herself in the teachings of various travelers they've had pass through over the years rather than be bored to death with the ramblings of Aldous, Lex utilizes every lesson the rogues, rangers, and warriors gave her.

A few opportunities arise to practice her lock picking skills along the way, and she can't help but tuck the items in her bag to be left in other parts of the castle later. One of her favorite pastimes is to swipe various belongings of the castle's inhabitants, scatter them, then sit back and watch the owners frantically search for their property. The game is particularly fun when the missing items were never meant to see the light of day.

Her luck seems to slip away though, when she is forced to slink passed one of the many small courtyards that is currently filled with guests and Lex can find no alternative. "Where's a sodding hidden passage when you need one," the girl grumbles to no one in particular and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she draws ever closer to the group. Quiet as a chantry mouse and graceful as an Orlesian dancer, Lex deftly moves down the passage.

She has nearly cleared the gap and feels the comforting shadows overtaking her form when her mother's voice suddenly rings out over the din, "Alexa Rose, where have you been? And why are you in leathers instead of that gown I had Tosha lay out for you this morning?"

The girl's shoulders slump in defeat and she turns to face the seemingly ageless woman who is glaring in her direction. "Fergus promised me one last lesson before he left and then Havoc's disappeared again," Lex stammers, more than a little self conscious at the haughty gazes now leveled at her, "I didn't think that you'd want an Antivan gown ruined in such a manner mother."

"You let your daughter take up arms?" a vaguely familiar woman gasps, sparking a flare of annoyance in Lex, "Maybe she'd act less like a common street rat and more like a lady befitting her rank if you and Bryce would put your foot down and end this nonsense. Alexa should be learning how to take care of a household, not pretending that she's a soldier."

It's the other woman's nasally voice that finally clears the young Cousland's clouded mind. The memory of her last encounter with Bann Lorren's wife causes a humorless laugh to erupt from her. "Maker's breath, that's rich, especially coming from the woman who spent the Spring Salon trying to get her hand up my skirts while drunk as a dwarf."

"How dare you!" the Banna shrieks and extends a finger at Lex, the garish paint on the woman's fingernail reminding the noblewoman of vomit, "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. Dairren told me all about your little tryst after the last time we visited."

As if on command, the gangly young man she had been avoiding since spotting him on the training yard earlier, appears behind his mother. Lex nearly groans at the look of pure adoration on his face. "Good day to you Lady Alexa," he cooes, once again reminding her of why she now refuses to bed virgins, "It's good to see you again."

"Dairren, you might want to escort your mother back to her rooms before I cut out her tongue," the object of his fantasies snaps in irritation, "I'm going to find my dog."

After watching the boy follow her orders, Lex spins on her heel to go, but her mother lays a hand on her shoulder before she can escape, "Lex, what has gotten into you lately? This is more than you being upset about your father and brother leaving."

She runs her fingers through her vibrant red hair and lets out a woeful sigh, "I should be going with them mother. I can fight, I know how to apply poultices and bandages, and I can easily scour ahead and disarm any traps that might be in their way. Being left behind..." she doesn't bother wiping away the tears that have begun to fall, "It feels wrong."

The elder lady presses her soft lips to her daughter's forehead, "That is a question that only your father can answer my dear. Perhaps you should seek him out and speak with him before dinner this evening. I'll have one of the servants round up Havoc and have him brought to you, I know that he can calm you better than anyone."

Lex draws a shaky breath and nods in agreement, "Thank you mother. I'll find him now, before he hears about what I said about the Banna. He might not be too accommodating after hearing that."

One side of her mother's mouth turns upward, "Oh, I wouldn't be too presumptuous if I were you. After you talk to your father, could you do me a favor? Find Fergus and tell him that I wish to have a word with him before dinner."

"Yes mother," the girl smiles and hugs the lady before trotting off in search of her father.

**So...what do you think? I'm not a mind reader, so you'll have to leave me a review telling me your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, maybe writing third person isn't my cup of tea. I'm going to bounce back to first person for now because it's what I'm used to writing.**

**Many thanks to those who took a chance and read the first chapter!**

**Also, please point out any glaring mistakes, I don't use a beta.**

**I still don't own.**

I manage to dodge Dairren yet again before emerging into the relative safety of the main hall. It's not difficult to locate my father amongst the men who are lulling around, chattering about the upcoming march to Ostagar.

My well worn leathers and razor sharp blades draw more than a few inquisitive looks as I bob and weave my way through the throng. Sodding nobles, all in a hurry to leave their families and kill darkspawn. Lucky bastards.

"Pup, there you are," the honorable Teyrn Cousland calls out as our matching jade gazes meet, "I'd wondered where you'd gone off to. I want you to meet someone that I believe can keep your attention," he gestures to an older man with a weathered face, thick beard, and tired eyes, "Meet Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens. Ser Duncan, this is the jewel of the Cousland family, Alexa Rose."

The Grey Warden's silver orbs bear down on me, "Now I understand why your father has hidden you away during my visits in the past milady. The strength I see in you, tis easy to surmise why he's afraid that I would spirit you away to join my order."

His confession feels like what a mage must experience when they ingest lyrium to heighten their power. "You-I-Is it even possible for those of noble birth to join the Wardens? You really believe I would be a good choice?"

"I was afraid of this," my father groans, not so subtly moving to block Duncan's view of me, "Your place is here pup. With your brother and I answering the king's call to war, I need you to stay here and look after our people in my stead."

"What?" the word is nearly a wail as I remember the Banna's cruel words from earlier, "Are you telling me that the sole reason I cannot accompany you and Fergus is because you need someone to run the house while your gone? What about mother? She's infinitely more capable than I and it's no secret that you defer to her with all your decisions."

"Your daughter makes a fine point Bryce," Duncan interjects, his tone...approving? "From what Ser Gilmore confessed to me this morning, the young lady is as talented in the art of swordplay as she is in dealing with the nobility, even if her methods are more straightforward than most, but she has not the experience in politics her mother has."

"Oh shut up you," the teyrn snaps in irritation before bringing his head close to mine, "Yes, your mother is usually very capable, but there have been some disturbing rumors coming out of Denerim as of late. Our people and our lands need more than a bureaucrat who was an archer in her youth, they need someone who can protect them. You, my dear child, are who I trust with that task."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he musses my hair and swivels his head back to the Warden, "Forgive my hasty words Duncan. With all that has transpired, I fear for my family's safety above all else."

The other man gives a curt nod, "Tis already forgotten old friend. But we've known each other for too long for me to lie about her potential, it would be an insult to both you and your daughter."

A protective arm is draped over my shoulders, "I'm sorry to say this, but the only way I would allow Alexa to leave with you is if you invoked the Right of Conscription. Is that your intent?"

Those silver pools linger on my face for the span of a few heartbeats, then Duncan blows out a heavy sigh and shakes his head, "No Teyrn, I would only go down that path if I had no other choice. As it is, Ser Gilmore will make a well enough addition to our ranks. I would not be so bold as to expect another sacrifice from the noble house of Cousland."

"Don't I get a say in what I do with my life?" I mutter, feeling more like a horse being haggled over instead of a human being.

Duncan's expression is sympathetic while my father holds me tighter, "Not this time pup. I-"

He is cut off by a weasely looking man with a hawk nose and twitchy demeanor, "Bryce! You didn't tell me that you had a Grey Warden as a guest. I am, regrettably, less than prepared to be in the presence of such an iconic figure."

"Rendon, don't be so dramatic," my father laughingly chides the new arrival, then waves his free hand between the men, "Arl Howe, meet Duncan, an old friend of the Cousland family and Commander of the prestigious Grey Wardens. Ser Commander, may I introduce Arl Rendon Howe, one of my best childhood friends and most trusted ally."

"Charmed," the arl retorts dismissively, "Is Fergus here yet? There is an important matter I need to discuss with the two of you."

Sensing the inevitable, I shrug out from under my father's arm, "I'll go find him. Mother sent me to fetch him as well."

The elder Cousland answers with a wink and a grateful smile as I slip away from the trio. He's always known that Arl Howe makes my skin crawl and though he does not understand my aversion, he never purposely puts me in a situation where I have to deal with the man longer than is necessary.

After searching the estate and not finding my sibling, I shift direction and start my way back to the southwestern wing, where the private chambers are located. Halfway back, I hear Ser Gilmore just in time to avoid colliding with his splint mail clad body.

"Adraste's sword! There you are!" the knight bellows in relief, "I've torn this place apart looking for you. Your mother asked me to find your mabari and bring him to you, but there has been a bit of a complication. I need you to come with me."

Visions of chicken feathers swirling through the air while Havoc happily munches on their former owners scream through my psyche, "What did he do this time?"

"He's managed to get himself locked into the kitchen larder and Nan is furious," the man explains, tugging my arm to follow him, "The servants are near comatose, they're so scared of her. I honestly believe that she might use that meat cleaver of hers on him this time."

"Nan would never hurt my dog," I argue in spite of my quickening pace, "She loves to yell and call him names, but she loves Havoc almost as much as I do."

"Keep telling yourself that milady," he murmurs, the two of us finally breaking into a run as Nan's shouts reach our ears.

We burst into the kitchen to find Nan and two of the elvish servants standing near the door of the larder. "I'm going to use your pelt as a rug and boil your bones you mangy mongrel!" the aged woman berates the canine through the wood.

Then, with more agility than I thought a person of her advanced age capable of, she leaps at me when she senses my presence, "Get that mongrel out of my larder! I can hear him snuffling in there, eating all the salted pork I bet! How am I supposed to feed all of the guests when that flea bitten, four legged walking disaster has eaten everything I've spent the day preparing? He needs put down, I say!"

_Maybe someone should put you down_ I resist responding. Instead, I hold my hands up in surrender, "I'm sorry Nan. I'll get him out of here, I promise."

She huffs in disbelief, but steps away from the door to give me access. I reach out to unlock it and Ser Gilmore grabs my hand, "Maybe I should go first milady, in case the confined space has made him upset."

"Mabari will never willingly do anything to hurt their imprints," I explain to him while gently removing his hand from mine, "Anyone else though? No guarantees. Please, get a safe distance back so he doesn't misinterpret your stance in regards to me and attack you."

The expression on his face makes me wonder if he's going to argue, but before I can warn him again, he surrenders his place and moves so that he's standing just to the left and a few steps behind me.

Raising my unfettered hand, I count to three, then throw the heavy door wide to reveal a large creature with a coat darker than midnight and eyes that resemble those odd ice crystals I've seen travelers carry. A swift inventory of the room shows that all of the perishables are still intact, aside from a few bags of grain near the northernmost corner.

"What are you up to?" I ask the war dog, stepping into the room, "Nan's having a fit you know."

Havoc answers with a resounding bark and retreats back to the area where the bags have been disturbed. His inky nose hovers over the floor for a moment, then he resumes digging at the stone.

The lone door closes with a soft click and the young knight makes his way across the space, "What is that blasted dog doing? There's nothing there!"

"There" must be a universal signal because right after he says it, half a dozen massive rats scurry from the area Havoc had been digging at. "Rats!" I yelp and stomp on the nearest one, then drive one of my daggers into it's skull. Another streaks by, but after a well aimed dagger and a flick of the wrist, its corpse is speared to the floor.

Despite their unusual size, it takes but minutes for the three of us to dispose of the vermin. I dig a rag out of my bag to clean my blades and Havoc begins howling at the door to be released. I use my dagger to point out the rat carcases, "Clean those up first so Nan can see for herself why you invaded her sacred larder."

With a happy bark, he gets to work laying the rats side by side on the floor. "Do you think it's a good idea to tell Nan that her larder had swamp rats living in it?" Ser Gilmore challenges after cleaning the gore from his own blade and sheathing it.

I give a noncommittal shrug and put my own weapons away before answering, "Better than her convincing my parents that my best friend needs executed, yes?"

Ser Gilmore's armored shoulders droop, along with his head, "Yes milady."

I flash him my brightest smile then wait for him to turn to the door before stuffing a few herbs into my bag and pulling the laces tight on it. My war hound, tasting his freedom, lifts his immense forequarters off of the ground and throws his weight against the door as the knight beside him unlatches it. It's a move he immediately regrets.

"So, I see you're finally done stripping my larder of anything edible," Nan's venom coated words cause Havoc to cringe and bow his head, "Well, did you at least leave something to feed the guests?"

"Nan, Havoc didn't eat any of the food," I counter in the hound's defense, "He was killing rats that somehow found their way into the foodstuffs." It does not escape the knights notice that I purposely omitted the fact that the rodents were in fact swamp rats.

"Rats you say?" her brown eyes drop to the canine, trying to be angry still, but I see her ire fading with each breath,"Impossible. I have the servants look for rat holes almost daily."

"The lady speaks the truth Nan," the man at my side chimes in, "The proof is still laying inside, if you wish to see for yourself."

She waves her hands wildly, "That won't be necessary, but I would appreciate it if you vacated my kitchen so that I can salvage what part of this meal that I can."

The knight and I exchange a grin and gladly obey the command. We also poignantly ignore the old woman sneaking a strip of salted pork to Havoc before shooing him after us.

Ser Gilmore and I part ways at the intersection, him going east to attend to Duncan, I'm guessing, with Havoc and I choosing the western route to continue my quest to find Fergus again.

On my way to my brother's rooms Iona, handmaiden to the visiting Banna, slips a piece of parchment into my hand as we pass one another. When she is around the corner and out of sight, I pause to unroll the paper and read it.

_After the midnight bells sounds, I will meet you in your rooms._

Okay, maybe tonight won't turn out so bad after all.

**That's chapter two down. Still enjoying? Too weird for your taste? Fire off a review and let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, according to my counter, this seems to be quite popular so far, which is nice :-)**

**Still don't own.**

_Bark! Bark! Ooof! Gggrrrr..._ Havoc's restless growls rouse me from my slumber. I try to throw the blankets from my prone form, but quickly realize that something, no, someone is holding them in place.

I roll over onto my side while trying not to fall out of bed, then raise my head over the mass to see Iona...and a man I recognize as one of my father's officers. Both are sleeping quite soundly through the ruckus my war hound is stirring. This must be why imbibing alcohol is forbidden on the eve of battle, it makes you sleep like the dead. Then memories of our activities begin to filter back. Oh yes, now I remember why he was invited. With a satisfied smile spreading across my features, I slide out of bed and pad over to my faithful friend, who is facing the door and emitting a low, rumbling growl. His ears flick in my direction and his nug sized head follows.

"What's the matter boy, my father's friends keeping you up with their festivities?" I inquire, once more remembering my own "festivities" with the duo still dozing in my bed, and reach out a hand to scratch his soot colored back.

Havoc answers with a worried yip and resumes staring at the wooden barrier. "What is he upset about?" Iona's lightly accented voice comes from the bed as she slips out from under the quilt and tip toes over.

"I don't—" I'm interrupted by an agonizing scream.

I hiss and dive at my equipment chest while Iona shakes the soldier awake."I think that was Oriana!" While I hastily don my armor, they open the door and leave the room to investigate why my sister-in-law wailed like that.

I barely have my daggers in hand when the door crashes open. "We're under attack milady! It's the Arls' men! Hurry, we must leave!" the young officer sans Iona proclaims, his eyes wild with thinly veiled panic.

"What of Oriana and Fergus? Or my nephew?" I demand while shoving a few poultices and such into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

"I-" I hear the twang that signals the release of an arrow too late. Helplessly I watch as the man tumbles over and my canine companion launches himself through the portal.

I draw my blades, "Maker help us all," and race after Havoc in hopes that I am not too late to save my family.

In the common area, our guards lay slain with men bearing the crest of Arl Howe on their chests and shields standing over them. My sight blurs crimson as I parry, slice, evade, stab and feign until my enemies lay silent alongside my father's men.

"Alexa!" my mother's lyrical alto jolts me out of my bloodlust driven haze, "Thank the Maker!" Before I can breath, her slim arms, which I notice are currently clad in armor, are crushing me to her, "Oh dear, I can't find Bryce, Fergus, anyone. Have you seen them?"

I extricate myself from her embrace, "No, but I thought I heard Oriana shout. I was on my way to check on her when I came across the Arl's men."

Mother draws me after her as she marches towards my elder siblings chambers, "Arl Howe's men? He would never betray your father like that! They've been best friends since they were in swaddling's!"

I don't have a chance to answer, because my mother pushes the heavy door open and the action immediately reveals the limp arm of Oren resting against the bloodied leg of his mother. "Nnnoo!" she keens, dropping to her knees and gathering the boy to her, "Not him! Not my grandson! What monsters would kill a child?"

Fighting the urge to empty the contents of my stomach onto the stone floor, I grasp the hysterical woman's shoulder, "I have a feeling that more soldiers are coming and we cannot hope to survive alone. We have to find father and my brother before all is lost."

She refuses to answer as she rocks the corpse of her grandchild in her arms. Havoc lets out a low growl and my suspicions are confirmed. "Havoc get under the bed," I order in a low voice and push my mother face down into the still warm pool of blood spreading across the floor, "Don't move a muscle or they will kill us without a second thought."

My mother stares at me with unblinking eyes as the soldiers check the rooms and I feel my innards twist at how convincing of a corpse she makes. A stab of pain courses through me as one of the men investigating steps on my back, but I somehow refrain from crying out.

I don't know how many minutes creep by before the area is once again silent as a tomb. Well I guess, in a sense, it is a tomb now. Tears distort my sight at the morbid thought so I quickly wipe them away and get to my feet. The mabari is at my side in a flash and together we help my mother to stand.

"That was horrible," she mumbles, her eyes glossing over everything but the two bodies on the floor. Then she gasps and darts towards the opposite side of the room. "My bow! I gave it to Fergus when we found out that he would be going to Ostagar with your father," she caresses the carved wood reverently for a moment before shouldering the quiver full of arrows and looking back to me, "Let's go find Fergus and your father, they should be at the front gates if we're under siege."

I take the lead as we navigate the passageways, with my mother standing over my left shoulder, an arrow knocked and ready to fire. Along the way, we encounter more men, all bearing the crest of my father's oldest friend. My mother makes no attempt to hide her tears as we move and I do not try to console her because she showing emotions that I cannot allow to be let loose right now.

After breaking into the treasury and gathering the family's most prized possessions, two being the family sword and a shield that belonged to the first Cousland Teyrn of Highever, we come across a servant who is babbling about the castle having fallen. Mother and I convince him to aid us in defending the castle and he offers to scout ahead for any other survivors.

Outside of the main hall, she takes my arm and asks me to wait a second. "If the castle has truly been taken Lex, you need to promise me something right now or I will knock you unconscious and stow you out of harm's way this minute. Promise that if I tell you to run, you will. I mean it Alexa Rose," she growls when I open my mouth to protest, "If I tell you to go, take Havoc and escape through the servant's passage that is hidden in the larder. When you emerge on the other side, run far, run fast. The king must be made aware of what has happened this night, and the Arl's heinous treachery cannot go unpunished. Promise!"

"I promise," I automatically reply, not wishing to upset her more so than I must, "What about Duncan, do you think he was part of this too?"

"Never," she responds with an emphatic shake of her head, "Of all the people in Ferelden that you can trust Lex, the Warden Commander will always be one of them, if he still lives that is."

This time she takes point and hustles into the main hall, where we are met with a handful of soldiers holding the door. I recognize Ser Gilmore amongst the men and wave him over. Before I can ask him about my father's whereabouts, more of Howe's soldiers burst through another door and attack.

The fight is taxing, but my momentum is sustained by my murderous glee every time my daggers shred tendons, tear sinew, and puncture the vital organs of the bastards that are trying to steal my life. It seems only the span of a few heartbeats go by and, when the mage before me collapses, I am suddenly out of targets to take my wrath out on.

It hasn't been enough.

It will never be enough.

Not until Rendon Howe lies at my feet, dead by my hand.

Something falls on my shoulder and I stop my movement in time to see the red streaked face of Ser Gilmore. He lets out a sigh of relief as I withdraw the weapon and survey the room. "Maker's breath milady, the guardsmen-and your brother-often spoke of your martial prowess, but I didn't believe them, until today. My apologies for ever doubting."

I wave away his praise, "Not the time or the place for this discussion Ser knight. Where is my father? My brother? They were supposed to leave a first light, but Fergus had said something about our father wanting to make camp with the troops tonight."

"I know not milady," the man confesses wearily, wiping his face with a dirty rag, "I was in here, speaking with the night guard, when the attack came. We've been doing all we can to hold the doors, but I fear that it is an exercise in futility. Perhaps he is with Master Duncan, and I can assure you that he is safe, if that is the case."

Suddenly the doors heave as something is rammed against them. Ser Gilmore shoves me none too gently at my mother, "Lady Eleanor, take your daughter and flee! We will hold them off as long as we can!" His order is punctuated with more banging on the doors, "Go!"

"Thank you, all of you," my mother calls out then pulls me out the door.

Not even trying to be stealthy this time, we race across the compound, slowing only to avoid burning debris and rubble that has fallen from the damaged walls. The Maker must be smiling down on us because we don't cross paths with anyone on our frantic journey to the kitchens. I prevent my mother from rushing through the door and press my ear to the wood, ensuring that the room is indeed empty before pressing on.

Once inside, she enters the small cloakroom and reemerges with a cloak and a backpack, which she shoves into my hands, "We'll need food, water, and utensils. Oh, and remember a whetstone. Pack them while I bar the door."

Following her orders, I dutifully stuff the already half full bag with water and foods I can find that won't easily spoil. The pots won't fit, so I wrap them in cloth to prevent any clanging and tether them to the outer shell of the canvas.

I jump in surprise when the older woman knocks over one of the preparation tables and wedges it between the door and the stone island. "Sorry dear," she flashes a sad smile as she walks over with yet another full pack, "But I had to ensure we weren't going to be pursued. Bryce will be happy when he learns that I remembered that little trick."

I nod and shoulder my pack, "I'm sure he will. Are we set?"

She bobs her head once, her lips set in a thin line, "As much as we will ever be."

Together we pull open the larder door and slip inside.

"Eleanor my love...pup, you finally made it," my father acknowledges us from the far side of the room as we shuffle in.

My mother and I notice the dark red stain on his tunic and the blood surrounding him. "Bryce, are you hurt?" mother cries out and rushes to his aid.

"Rendon's men...would have died already had Duncan not came when he did," her husband explains in an ever weaker voice, "He's checking the passage...for soldiers...I'm afraid it's too late for me either way..."

My mother's sobs fill the room, challenging his statement with passionate words. I cannot bear to tell my mother that even an unseasoned warrior can tell that her husband's wound is mortal. I cut off that line of thought before my stony facade can crumble. I must stay strong for my parents. "Where is Fergus?"

The dying Teyrn's eyes fix on mine as my mother continues to weep against his shoulder, "I sent Fergus ahead... with a handful... of others...to scout...I pray he's...safe."

"We should be able to find him without much chase then," I surmise and, needing to stay busy, begin loading an empty grain sack with food.

"I won't be joining you this time pup," the elder Cousland's breathless declaration cuts through me like a knife, "Take your mother...find your brother..."

"I can take them Teyrn," Duncan's gravelly timbre echoes a bit as he appears out of the dark tunnel, "But in return you must allow me a boon. Give me permission to take Alexa with me, to join the Wardens. Do this and I swear that your wife and children will always be cared for."

"I'm not going," mother snarls, glaring up at the warrior, "I'm not leaving my husband. Take Alexa, find my son, and keep them safe Warden."

"Are you insane?" I stomp towards my parents, "I'm not going anywhere without you, the both of you! We can find Fergus together and then kill Rendon Howe for what he's done!"

"I will look after them personally, and if I pass, another will be appointed to watch over your children," the Warden Commander states as if I'd never spoken, "I swear on my honor and the honor of all Grey Wardens."

I draw my daggers and prepare for the fight that is no doubt coming, "No, I won't do it. I'm not going to leave my parents to die."

"Then I invoke the Right of Conscription," he responds as if that answers everything.

"Conscription my ass, I'm not going anywhere with you," seeing an opening, I lunge. He moves too quickly for me to adjust the trajectory of my attack and the last thing I see is the stone wall coming at me, then all turns black.

**Damn, that girl is stubborn. I can only imagine what she's going to say when she wakes up**


	4. Chapter 4

**Before you get upset that I continue to ask for reviews, please remember that I don't receive any kind of compensation for my work other than your kind words.**

**I own nothing copyrighted.**

Pain.

That is the first thing I feel as I begin to sense the world around me again. Bombarded both physically and mentally, it takes all of my strength not to surrender to the dark.

I'm lying on my side, so I timidly open one eye and am rewarded with a blinding bolt of agony. I clamp my eyes shut, then yank the blanket over my head against the light, and after a few controlled breaths, the sensation of my skull being cloven in two recedes.

Wait.

Why am I in a tent?

The flashes of my mother, father, and my family hit me harder than a bronto charge. A wracking sob bubbles out of my mouth as salty tears overflow from my lids and cascade down my face. I'm an orphan now because my father's most trusted friend and ally betrayed him.

Headache now forgotten, I toss the covers away and push myself from the cot I'd been sleeping on for who knows how long. I ignore the protest of my limbs as I force them into action, too focused on finding my armor and weapons to be bothered with aches and pains.

Luckily I don't have to search very long, as I find my battered leathers resting on a stool near a large wooden chest, my daggers and belt sitting on top. I rip off the simple shift I'm clad in with an annoyed grunt, then sift through my pack for a suitable tunic and pants to wear under my armor.

It takes some time to dress because my head refuses to stop swimming, but after a hard earned victory with myself, I step out of the tent fully clad and ready to beat the Warden Commander senseless before initiating my quest to hunt down Arl Howe and relieve him of his life.

"What is it now?" a man I don't recognize suddenly asks, "Haven't the Grey Wardens already asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"I'm only passing on a message from the revered mother," another man responds, his voice closer to me than the other, "She desires your presence Ser mage."

I circle around the tent as the men squabble to find a dark haired mage and a golden maned, armored warrior with his back to me. They seem to still be arguing.

"I will not be harassed in this manner!" the mage sneers, his contempt for the other man obvious.

The warrior responds with a chuckle, "Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit Warden." I thought it was pretty amusing myself.

The magic wielders words do not deter the other man though. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you...the grumpy one."

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh as the mage throws his hands up in defeat, "Fine, I will speak to the woman if I must. Now get out of my way fool."

"Um, you came to me and I cannot leave my post without the Warden Commander's permission," is the response.

I swear the sorcerer's eyes flare momentarily before he huffs and storms off, muttering under his breath as he goes.

Intrigued by the cheeky man, I close the space between us. Seemingly unruffled by my abrupt appearance, he turns to face me and oh Maker, he is beautiful.

"You know," he begins, his hazel eyes alight with humor, "One thing about this Blight is how it brings people together."

Huh? Oh, the darkspawn. He must think I'm another Warden! Quick, think of something witty!

"I know what you mean." Dammit, that sounded stupid.

He doesn't seem to notice, or chooses not to call me on my bluff. "It's like a party! We could all stand in a circle and hold hands! That would certainly give the darkspawn something to think about..." then a ripple of confusion mars his striking features, "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you would be another mage would you?"

Time to pretend that I belong in the camp so I don't find myself wearing irons. "I don't know...would that make your day worse?"

"You really have no idea," he groans and starts turning away before pausing. I get the feeling that I should bolt when he looks to the tent, then to me, then back a few times before smiling, "You're the new recruit Duncan found in Highever, aren't you? Hold on, you look nothing like a Ser Gilmore to me. You're far too beautiful to carry such a cringe worthy name."

I bite down against the resurgence of pain and sorrow and plaster on the biggest fake smile I can muster, "And what if I was Ser Gilmore? Are you telling me that you don't like my name Warden?"

Watching him splutter makes me feel lighter than I thought possible. "Not at all—no, I mean yes-Maker's breath- I like your name just fine Ser. It was just unexpected to discover who it belonged to. I'll go feed myself to the nearest darkspawn now Ser, if you'll excuse me."

I grab his arm before he can retreat, "No martyrdom needed on my behalf Ser. I am Alexa Rose, Ser Gilmore's um...replacement...as he fell in battle recently."

"Oh, what a beautiful name for an equally beau-erm..." briefly he manages to look sheepish before his lips curve back into the grin that was on his lips previously, "Well, let me introduce myself then. I am Alistair, the newest Grey Warden at the moment. I'm sorry that I didn't recognize you right away, but I've only seen you once, when Duncan carried you into camp, and you were unconscious at the time."

"Why were you standing guard at my tent then?" I am compelled to ask, "Surely your duties as a Warden are more important than babysitting someone like me."

"Not at all," Alistair counters with a shake of his head, "It's the duty of junior members to watch over new recruits until the time of their Joining. It's usually a pain, but with you, it is most definitely my pleasure."

"Excuse me?" I raise an eyebrow at him, finally laughing aloud when his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"I said that out loud didn't I? I am so sorry, that was wrong of me," we simultaneously realize how close our heads and bodies have gotten during our conversation and he takes a step back, "Please forgive my forwardness milady, I've no idea what's gotten into me today."

"No harm done Alistair," I hasten to assuage the distressed warrior, "And it's Alexa or Lex, not milady or some other equally as dreadful title."

"Your wish is my command Lex," his tone is warm honey to my ears as he gestures towards the grounds, "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you around our home away from home?"

"Nothing would please me more," I declare and am startled by the spike of excitement that goes through me.

The junior warden is so sweet, going above and beyond his role as babysitter, as he shows me around camp. One shining example of this is how he has taken the time to explain everything I see so that I won't be caught unawares again. It's his sheer selfless attitude that causes me to be genuinely saddened at the thought of how much trouble he will be in when I slip away from him, hopefully find Havoc, and begin my search for Howe.

Unknowingly the kind young man also arms me with much needed information that I didn't have before, like the fact that I'd been unconscious nearly a week because of my head wound. That tidbit alone reveals how much of a head start the traitorous bastard has on me.

"You know," Alistair interrupts my silent planning, "It just now occurred to me that there have never been many female Wardens. I wonder why that is..."

"It's probably because we're too smart for you," I smirk, once again amazed at how easy it is to simply be Lex with this man and not some bubble head, "Why are you worried? Want more Lady Wardens to choose from, do you Ali?" Oops. I didn't mean to abbreviate his name like that, it just slipped out.

"Ali eh?" I watch as he mulls the nickname around, "A-li..Allli?...Al-iii..hmm, I think I like it. Ali it is, but only if it comes from you because I like the way you make it sound, agreed?" I nod in agreement, eliciting another beaming smirk, "And to answer your question-Would it be so terrible? To have the leisure of gazing upon the fairer race while defending Ferelden in place of having your eyes burned day after day by throngs of sweaty, hairy men who perpetually smell like week old carrion left out in the summer heat?"

"Well, when you put it so eloquently, how can I argue?" I nudge his shoulder with my own as we both snicker at our silliness.

We stroll in comfortable silence for a time, finally stopping so that I may see the view of the battlefield from above. I refuse to shrink away when he slowly reaches out his hand and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. "But what would that make you then, if women are so much smarter?"

Okay, didn't expect that question. "Just one of the guys, I guess. Growing up, I was never one to be content listening to the other girls blather on about the latest fashions being worn at court or which noble was secretly sleeping with whoever. I wanted to be like my older brother, but I knew that I would never be strong enough to go traipsing into battle wearing full plate armor, so I drove myself to become faster, smarter, more agile than my opponents. I swear I nearly drove my mother mad when she had to physically hold me down and put a dress on me because she knew that was the only way I would wear one..." I let my story drift away and gaze out towards the fields where the armies are camped.

"Why are you so melancholy Lex? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't wish to," I can hear the honest lilt in his tone, "But please know that I'm here if you ever just need someone to listen."

"Alistair," Duncan's deep timbre suddenly fills the space, "Gather Alexa and bring her over. The king wishes to speak with us."

Alistair makes no returning comment, but turns to watch the Warden Commander dissolve into the crowd. "Where did he get a black mabari? They are so rare..."

That gets my attention.

"He has a mabari with him? That's my dog!" Why didn't Havoc come to me when he caught my scent? Not waiting for the junior Warden, I rush after them, intent on reclaiming my war hound and then giving the elder Warden a piece of my mind.

My companion gives chase, but ceases calling out my name when he realizes that nothing is going to stop me and he has no chance of overtaking my frantic pace while wearing his heavy armor.

Finally I catch a glimpse of the man who is now conversing with a blonde warrior in gold tinted armor. "Duncan, you son of a-"

"Your Majesty," Duncan announces as I skid to a stop a few feet away, "May I present Alexa Cousland, the Grey Wardens newest recruit. Alexa, it is my honor to introduce his Majesty, King Cailan Theirin, leader of all Ferelden."

"Bryce and Eleanor's little one?" the king's pale eyebrows raise in surprise while Havoc licks my hand in greeting, "By Andraste's sword, you have grown quite a bit since the last time I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Tell me Alexa Rose, are your parents fairing well these days?"

"They're dead Your Majesty, murdered by Rendon Howe," I snarl, my words dripping with venom, "And my brother is missing. He doesn't even know that his wife and child no longer live..."

The man actually looks aggrieved as he places a hand on my shoulder, "I am so sorry Alexa. As soon as this battle is over, I vow that I will turn my forces to the north and deal with Howe myself. Bryce was one of my most trusted advisers and a dear friend, I will not let this nefarious deed go unpunished. I hope I can offer this meager consolation though. Fergus still lives. I sent him, along with five more of my best scouts, into the Korcari Wilds just yesterday to see if any darkspawn forces are trying to circle around and attack the army from the rear. If they were still close by, I would have them called back so that you did not have to shoulder this burden alone."

I want to hug this man, I'm so grateful. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am happy knowing that my brother still lives. I must confess though that I am not eager to give him this grim news."

His oddly familiar hazel eyes flicker with understanding, "I can imagine not little one. But know that Duncan and his illustrious Wardens will look after you and Fergus, I'm sure of it." He pauses when another group of men arrive, "I don't mean to cut this short, but Loghain is here and I'm sure he wants to bore me with more of his plans. You will come and see me after your Joining, yes?"

I execute the most graceful bow I am able while wearing my leathers, "As you wish Your Majesty. Thank you for your time."

As the noblemen argue amongst themselves and Duncan does his best to diffuse flaring tempers, I quietly backpedal with Havoc until I am once again standing beside Alistair. "I'm sorry about earlier, I panicked when I saw Duncan leaving."

"Already forgotten," he replies, then turns to face me, "Have you ever actually seen a darkspawn?"

I shrug a shoulder, "I think so, but it was dead and father wouldn't let me get too close. Ugly bastard, from what I remember."

He nods knowingly, "I remember the first time I fought a darkspawn. I was...unprepared for the overwhelming sense of horror and...wrongness of the creatures. Did you know that it is possible to eat your own weight in cheese? I mean, it's not without consequence, but still, if one is determined, it can be done."

Confused at his abrupt change of subject, my head snaps up to peer at him, "Wow, talk about random. Should I ask how you are privy to this or will I regret it?"

"I'll have you know that it was a much needed distraction at the time," he chortles as we begin to walk back through the camp, "There isn't much to do in the Chantry during the winter other than pray, train, mend your clothes, and eat."

"You're from the Chantry?" my tone is incredulous, but it seems a waste to have such a fine looking man locked up in such a sterile place.

"I was training to be a Templar," Alistair qualifies with a grimace, "Up until six months ago when I was Conscripted by Duncan. After he sprang me, I told him that he needn't have done that because I would have willing hidden in his pack to escape that dreary place."

"I can't see you as being a cold, calculating mage hunter," I confess after he's led me through the food line and found us a shaded spot under a tree to eat.

He nods, swallowing his mouthful of food, "It wasn't my idea Lex. I was raised in the Chantry, therefore my future was decided for me a long time ago. When Duncan came, he saw I wasn't happy, and figured that my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. So here I now stand, er, sit, a proud Grey Warden."

I sneak a few bits of my meal to the drooling mabari before pressing the next issue. "But why would Duncan have you Conscripted if you were willing to join the Wardens?"

"Because that was the only way the grand cleric was willing to let me go," he admits in a tone that makes me wonder what he is omitting, "I mean, I believe in the Maker well enough and all, but I never wanted to devote my life to the Chantry. I will always be grateful to Duncan for freeing me from that place."

"Yes, Duncan...you speak so fondly of him." Is there more to their relationship than I'm seeing?

"I spent so long in the Chantry, years really, that I became hopelessly resigned to my fate," the warrior elaborates, not looking up from his plate, "Duncan was the first person to ever care about what I wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the grand cleric, all to help me."

Gut instinct tells me to let the subject go for now, so I start quizzing him on the Grey Wardens. If he detected a hint of my own mournful resignation in my voice, he didn't let on.

After dinner, he takes me to see the corpse of a darkspawn so that I am a bit more prepared for what I will soon be facing, then helps me trade some of the goods I had stowed for some sturdier equipment and a few bandages. On our journey, we come across a caged deserter that I couldn't pass by without slipping him some bread and water.

By the time the moon begins to rise, my headache has returned, and the young Warden is kind enough to lead me back to the pavilion I'd woken in this morning. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing when, with his cheeks blushing a lovely scarlet, he informs me that the tent is actually his, but had offered it up to Duncan since there was nowhere else to put me while I recovered. It's when he offers to sleep out in front of the tent that I come to the conclusion that Alistair's experience with women is somewhat...limited.

"Ali, stop babbling," I finally groan while peeling off my armor and stacking it beside my other belongings, "You're going to sleep in the tent with me and that's final. I...feel safer with you around."

Although the admission is genuine and wholly innocent, my stomach flutters with other thoughts of what could be possible with the strapping man without prying eyes around to interrupt.

"You do? Well, that's a first," he admits after a long silence. I watch as he proceeds to dig through his things, then produces a length of rope and what appears to be a white bed sheet. "Alright, I'll stay, but I want to hang this sheet between us so that you can at least have the semblance of privacy. I also insist that you take the cot, I will sleep near the entrance on my bedroll. I know you can take care of yourself and all, but I don't want anyone accidentally walking in on you while you are...less than decently dressed."

"Agreed," I answer with a small amount of chagrin, "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

I swear he mumbles something along the likes of "You have no idea," as he hangs the sheet, but I brush it off as my own hopeful imagination. When he is satisfied that his—I mean my- virtue will be maintained, I shed everything but my small clothes, step over the now snoring form of my war hound, and climb under the covers. The last thoughts I have are images of Alistair tossing away his gentlemanly attitude and kissing me passionately.

**I made an effort to use some of the actual game dialogue this chapter, to maintain some connection, I hope it worked out favorably.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hhmmmm, still quiet on the review front. Good thing I've been writing long enough not to take offense lol. Maybe a sprinkling of citrus will encourage you :-)**

**I still don't own.**

_His calloused hands lovingly glide over my sweat slicked skin, belaying a tenderness I didn't think was possible, as he continues to find my secret pleasure spots._

_ "So beautiful, my Alexa Rose," he purrs, my chest involuntarily rising to meet his as his fingers toy with the folds of my twitching core, "So wet...so ready for me..."_

_ He lowers his head and I whimper when his lips capture my nipple then begins to suckle greedily. I reach down between our bodies to caress his arousal and am amazed that I cannot wrap my fingers completely around its girth._

_ "I need you Alistair," I plead, my voice hoarse with lust, while I pump his shaft, "Don't make me wait..."_

_ "Your wish is my command," he answers, releasing my aching peak and situating himself between my quivering thighs. I wind my legs around his hips and pull him closer to where my need is the greatest. The crown of his member teases my entrance, causing the throb in my nethers to double. I sigh as he begins to join us, stretching me in ways that nearly send me over the edge._

_ "Lex, you feel so good, wrapped around m-"_

"Lex, it's time to get up," the object of my dream shocks me into cold reality, "We have to meet Duncan and the other two recruits before we set out today."

"I'm awake," I sit up with a huff, throw my legs over the side, and bury my face in my hands. "What the hell is wrong with you girl? You hardly know him!"

_Like that's ever stopped you before_ a little voice in my head cackles evilly.

"Shut up," I grumble and stagger to my feet, scarcely avoiding being tripped up by Havoc, who is watching me with an amused look.

"Did you say something Lex?" Alistair inquires from the far side of the partition. I can hear the clinking of metal as he suits up in his own armor.

"Stubbed my toe," I declare in a louder voice as I pick up my own protective gear, "Forgot I was in a tent for a minute."

"You might want to be more careful with yourself Lex. You don't want to go and off yourself before the darkspawn get their chance at it, do you?" he taunts, his low chuckling echoing through the enclosed space.

"Who says they'll get a chance? In the end, all I have to do is outrun your slow ass," I deadpan, relishing in the feel of cool suede against my superheated flesh as I don my leathers.

"Maybe, but I know that I could take down an obscene amount of them before I hear the Maker's call," he mutters something incomprehensible and there is a thump as he drops something onto the rug covered floor, "Are you set?"

"As much as I will ever be," I repeat my mother's words and strap on my weapons before tossing my night clothes on the cot and heading into the still dark morning.

Havoc and I wait for the junior Warden to emerge, still stretching and yawning as we stand outside the pavilion. When he comes out, he's wrapped in his steel grey cloak that is unique to the order.

"Maker's breath, it's colder than a witches left tit out here," he remarks before remembering me and flushing pink, "Sorry, my manners are still snuggled up under the blankets and I'm more than a little jealous of them."

I pull my own plain wool cloak closer as we begin navigating our way across the grounds, "No worries Ali. Some of my father's closest friends were dwarves so I grew up hearing much more colorful language than that."

I'm still half asleep an hour later when a lady mage named Wynne hands Jory, Daveth, and I each an empty vial and a few pre-assembled kits made to deal with various injuries. She hands me an extra kit, stating that it was made especially for mabari war dogs, and goes on to mention a flower growing in the Wilds that would help him if he were to ingest any darkspawn blood. I make a mental note to seek out the rare bloom although Duncan has requested that Havoc stays in camp this trip.

Fourteen days of sloshing through stinking marshes, I don't remember how many dead darkspawn, and a knuckle broken in attempts to silence Jory's incessant whining later, the four of us stand gaping at the mangled chest that once contained the ancient treaties.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a woman's voice breaks through the uncomfortable silence, "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger, poking around a corpse whose bones were long since been cleaned? Or maybe an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine, in search of easy prey?"

I cannot deny the exotic beauty she possesses as she saunters towards us, her raven hair and golden eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. I open my mouth to speak, but she continues her speech as she slows to a stop in front of me, "What say you hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

After swallowing back my trepidation, I shake my head, "I'm neither milady, I assure you. But I have to ask one thing, how are these your Wilds?"

Her laughter, as mocking as it is, is sin wrapped in black velvet, "Because I know them as only one who owns them could. Can you claim the same? I have watched your progress for some time."

I feel like a mouse being stalked by a hungry cat as she slinks passed to stare out into the stinking bogs she calls home. "Where do they go? I wondered. Why are they here? And now you disturb ashes that no one has touched in so long...why is that?"

"We did not mean any insult to you when we came to this place," I declare, ignoring the warning looks coming from the men, "The tower once belonged to the Grey Wardens and we were charged with unearthing some ancient documents that once resided in that box."

"Don't say anymore Lex," Alistair growls to my right, unsheathing his sword, "She looks like a Chaisnd. There could be more laying in wait."

Once again her dark laughter floats through the air and she raises her arms to mime a bear, I think, "Whoa. Are you afraid that hordes of barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes, swooping is bad," the junior Warden's words may be entertaining, but his expression is murderous, "This woman is a Witch of the Wilds."

"She'll turn us into toads, she will!" Daveth simpers, his bow trembling in his hands.

"Witch of the Wilds? Toads, you say? Bah! Such idle fancies, those legends are," she scoffs and folds her arms over her barely contained bosom, "Have you no minds of your own or has the Chantry managed to banish them along with your free will?" Suddenly her smoldering eyes cut over to me, "You there, the rare beauty with crimson hair, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"Stand down, I don't think she wants to hurt us," I whisper to the others before walking toward her and extending my hand, "I am Alexa Rose, of the Grey Wardens. It is a pleasure to meet you milady."

She reaches out her unarmored arm and clasps my hand, "What a surprise, to find such a show of manners out here in the Wilds. Well Alexa Rose, you may call me Morrigan."

"Did you steal the documents from the box?" Alistair challenges, grabbing my arm and pulling me back from the woman.

She appears unruffled by his rudeness, "Tell me something, how does one steal from dead men?"

"Very easily, it seems," Jory scowls and I feel the urge to punch him in the mouth again.

"Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest your return them immediately," Daveth snarls, his courage fueled by the other men's remarks.

Morrigan rolls her amber eyes, "How can I return something that I didn't take in the first place? You can try invoking a name that means nothing here until you turn blue in the face, it won't make them appear any faster. How you do put up with them Alexa?"

"It is not without great effort," I admit, earning myself a few disdainful glares in the process, "Morrigan, I hate to impose on you more than we already have, but might you know who did take the documents? I can spare a few coin for your time."

"Money means nothing to me," the mage smirks, "It is simply a means to an end. No bother, I have no need of your coin. My mother is the one who found your precious bits of parchment and has been protecting them since."

Jory, Daveth, and Alistair gasp, but I push forward, "Would it be possible for you to take us to your mother? Those papers mean a great deal to the order."

She considers my plea for a few moments, then bobs her head in affirmation, "Tis a sensible enough request. I wouldn't give it a second thought usually, but I like you Alexa Rose. Follow me, if it pleases you."

"Oh yes, she says she likes you all fine and dandy now," Alistair mumbles as we trail after the mysterious mage, "But the moment you turn your back on her it's ZAP! Frog time."

"She'll put us all in the pot she—-" Jory whines, but I raise a hand, "Jory, lock your jaws closed until I say otherwise or I'm going to cut your tongue out and feed it to my dog."

He promptly shuts his trap and I give a sidelong glance to Alistair, who is giving me an awed look. "What?"

"Would you really do that?" he asks in a low voice so the others don't overhear, "Cut his tongue out and feed it to the mabari?"

"Depends on how annoyed I get," I confess with a nonchalant shrug, "Why Ali? Worried about your tongue being next? I could think of more interesting things to do with your tongue other than removing it from your head."

"Oh, like what?" I can tell from the sound of his voice that he really has no clue as to what I was inferring.

"I don't know Ali, maybe I might make you lick a lamp post in the middle of winter or something along those lines in order to get a cheap thrill," I snicker when the words lamp post make him flush from hairline to gorget.

"I don't know if that's fair Lex," he teases back after he regains his composure, "Have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?"

Andraste's shield, I think the lily white Templar is actually trying to flirt with me! I'm almost giddy as I grin at him. "Why yes Alistiar, I've licked a lamp post or two in my day. I could show you how it's done sometime, if you'd like," I purposely let my voice drop an octave or two, using the husky timbre I occasionally employ to draw in my lovers.

"I don't think the dynamics are that difficult to work out," he retorts, once again oblivious to any innuendo my words carry.

"Oh dear, this is worse than I thought," Morrigan sighs, then looks over her shoulder at the warrior, "I believe she was referring to your lamp post, you blithering idiot."

"What? How- Oh," his ruddy cheeks blanch and he suddenly increases the distance between us, "Th-tha-Maker help me-that's not what I was talking about."

"I think you will have your work cut out for you if you are so insistent on having this one Alexa," the wild woman snickers, then lifts a thin hand to point a little farther down the path, "Mother's hut sits just outside of the treeline there. I hold no illusions that we will catch her unawares."

The older woman certainly proves to be just as infuriating as Morrigan predicted, talking in riddles and telling fantastic stories before handing over the scrolls, but as Morrigan guides us back to Ostagar, I do not doubt that the apostate truly is the Flemeth of legend.

After thanking Morrigan for shaving more than a day off of the return trip, our group barely makes it to the gates in time before they are locked fast for the night. Daveth growls about dinner and a bath, but Alistair is adamant on delivering the treaties to Duncan posthaste. What starts as an exhausted shuffle first evolves into a trot, then a full sprint across camp. I have to slow up to keep pace with the eager Warden, but that does nothing to diminish my own fervor to complete our appointed task.

Jory discovers Duncan standing near the large central bonfire and we veer off in the direction the man is pointing. Havoc, having caught my scent on the wind, begins barking at us and bouncing around the Warden Commander like the puppy he was not so long ago.

Alistair hands them over, bursting with pride as he does so. Duncan carefully examines each one before ordering the junior Warden to begin making preparations for the Joining, which will be done in the morning.

For some strange reason, the Commander dashes into the twilight without saying anything but "Well done" to the rest of us. Could those innocuous sheets of parchment hold some secret that would ensure our army's victory? How could centuries old treaties help us now?

With our adrenaline on the wane, Alistair and I lean on one another as we get something to eat and carry it back to our tent. We dine in comfortable silence, then part briefly to get clean in the bathing tents. When we come together again, I wordlessly push Alistair onto the cot and collapse beside him, covering us with a blanket as I fall.

"We shouldn't do this Alexa," he argues even as one of his massive arms wraps around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest.

"This might be the last night either of us get the chance to sleep in something resembling a bed for a very long time," I mumble into his tunic, all the while delighting in the leather and cocoa butter scent wafting from him, "I don't want anything but for you to hold me tonight Alistair. I'm scared to death at what tomorrow is going to bring and you make all of it recede for a while. Would you deny me my short time of peace?"

He answers by snaking his other arm around me and burying his face in my hair, "No Alexa, I would never do anything to hurt you like that."

"Good."

As I drift into the Fade, some dark little creature inside of me dances with glee at his declaration.

**How cute was that ending? I'm pretty damn proud of myself for thinking that one up :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Poor Alistair, I don't think he realizes just how enamored he is with our heroine.**

**No copyright ownage on my behalf.**

Something warm and rough stroking my hand helps me to awaken enough for my brain to acknowledge that I'm now alone in bed. I give Havoc an affectionate pat as my eyes adjust to the gloom around me. "Alistair?" I inquire, my voice still thick with sleep.

A hulking figure moves through the black until I feel his hand on my hair and something-his lips perhaps?- brush against my forehead, "Go back to sleep Lex, you still have a few hours yet. I have to go finish preparing for the ceremony or Duncan will be very upset with me."

"M'kay," I yawn and burrow further down into the cot while he draws the covers around my shoulders. I'm asleep again before he leaves the tent.

The second time consciousness comes, the space around me is now dimly lit by early morning light. My four legged companion gives a low woof in greeting and I accept that the time for resting has come to an end.

Today I officially become a Grey Warden.

With that thought firmly lodged in my thoughts, I take my time dressing for the day. I give my armor and weapons, which now includes a yew short bow, a thorough cleaning before trudging back to the bathing tents and scrubbing every part of my body that I can reach. Havoc is a tad miffed when I also force a bath on him, but settles after I explain the importance of today. He even sits quietly while I take out the pots of stain and apply his warpaint in a ceremonial design the kennel master taught me. That's a first, he's normally does everything in his power to keep from being painted.

When I'm done and have found my way back to Alistair's tent, I sift through my bags and, finding what I need, apply a jasmine scented oil to my hair and body to make them soft and shiny. I'm not usually one to willingly endure such feminine rituals, but then again I'm not usually one to go joining random orders of legendary warriors either.

I refuse to admit that I'm doing all of this because a certain Templar turned Warden will be in attendance.

Afterwords, I take my time putting the armor on, making sure each piece fits perfectly before moving on to another. While doing this I allow my mind to conjure the faces of my family and swear to each one that, after this battle, I will not rest until Rendon Howe pays for what he did. I will survive this, I must, if I have any hope of regaining the honor of the noble House of Cousland.

Once I can no longer find an excuse to cower in the relative safety of the tent, I call my dearest friend to me and head outside. As we pass by the area where breakfast is being served, the mabari whines to be fed, so we make our way over. Unable to dine myself, I smooth the barely perceptible wrinkles from my cloak while Havoc scarfs down more than enough for the two of us.

It's almost an hour later that Alistair finds us. I catch him snickering at me while I haggle with the quartermaster over a set of boots and a pair of gloves. I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't show up a few minutes earlier, when I'd come across a small granite figurine of a warrior and immediately bought it because it reminded me of him.

"Is it time?" I ask after the quartermaster concedes defeat and concludes our transaction.

His blonde head nods once as he takes the sack holding my newly acquired goods and slings it over his shoulder, "Nearly. Ser Jory and Daveth have already been rounded up. I went back to our-the tent to get you, but it was empty."

"Havoc was hungry and I was tired of standing around so we decided to go for a walk," I explain, acutely aware of our close quarters and not giving a damn about it presently, "Then I remembered that you'd said the higher ups told Duncan that the darkspawn should be arriving in the next few days and I wanted to buy some boots that were easier on my feet. After the ritual I'll put them on and get them broke in so they're ready by then."

I don't know what I'd said to set him off, but he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me away from the path. When we pass the tent we've been sharing, he tosses the bag inside without breaking his quick pace, then continues on until we reach a patch of stone ruins hidden behind our campsite.

Confused, worried, and my arm still locked in his iron grip, I smartly choose to stay quiet while observing a plethora of expressions cross over the young man's features. Pain, anger, regret, confusion, worry, and...is that sadness? What? Why is he sad?

That mystery is what destroys my resolve.

"What's wrong Ali?" my voice is so low that I wonder if he's heard. I clear my throat and try again. "Alistair?"

He finally raises his soulful brownish green orbs from the ground to leer at me. "Maker forgive me, I don't know if I can do this..." his whisper is carried away on the wind.

My blood is pulsing in my ears and I've begun trembling when he relinquishes the death grip on my arm, only to have his hand slide down my armor and grasp my own. "Alexa Rose, I want you to know that even if we never see each other again after today, my life has been made better simply for having met you."

"Never see each other again?" I repeat his words and they taste like ash, "Ali, even if we get placed on separate ends of the Warden camp, I'm sure we will find time to talk still, unless the order has something against the enlisted men and women fraternizing?"

He releases my hand then raises his own to stroke my cheek again before taking a step back and turning away. "Lex, I'm going to tell you something that you can never tell anyone about outside of the Wardens. You see, there's a reason we may not see one another again after today. You...might be...dead."

I blink at him stupidly a few times before shaking my head clear, "Dead? What do you mean by dead? It's just an initiation!"

My feet have carried me close enough that he nearly knocks me over when he spins around, "I wish it was that simple Alexa, I truly do, but it's not. There's something that you have to do during the Joining, something dangerous and...not everyone survives it. They die. As in the opposite of being alive."

"So that's it? I either survive and become a Warden or I end up worm food?" I throw up my hands in frustration, "Well, it's that fucking grand. When was Duncan planning on telling us that fun little fact? When were you planning on telling me, if ever?"

"Right beforehand," Alistair sighs and reaches for me, but I lithely dance away from the outstretched limbs, "And please don't curse like that, it doesn't suit you."

A coil inside of me that has been winding ever tighter since Howe's attack finally snaps and the hysterical laughter erupts from me before I can bite it back. "Silly Templar. My family has been butchered, I was kidnapped by a madman, my brother is probably darkspawn food, and I just found out that I'm most likely going to be dead by dark, and you're chastising me for saying the word fuck? Unfuckingbelievable!"

"Lex, please," he still stands frozen, arms still reaching out to me, "Alexa, let me explain, I beg you."

"Make it quick," I snarl and cross my arms over my chest, "It seems that I have a bout of dying to get to."

His arms drop and he makes no move to come nearer, "Wardens are forbidden to discuss the Joining with anyone who hasn't lived through it. I didn't want to keep it from you, I swear, but if the others found out I said anything, they'd have me executed or sent to the Deep Roads."

Just the idea of Alistair no longer existing is enough to cut through my rage and render it impotent. "Th-they would execute you for telling me? Why?"

"Do you know of anyone who would volunteer to join the order if they knew that there was only a fifty fifty chance of them actually surviving their initiation?" the warrior challenges with a hollow chuckle, "If you do, I'll help you send out messenger birds to them and we'll recruit them too."

"Do you think I'll survive it?" I blurt out the only question I'm not sure I want the answer to, "And don't lie to me, I've had enough of those lately."

"I have to believe that you will otherwise I'd take you and run away right now, before anyone had a chance to miss us," he confesses with an impish grin spreading over his face, "We've only known each other a short time Lex, but you are easily one of the strongest people I know...or is it hard headed? I always mix those two up."

My strength renewed, it wrestles the fear down to a more manageable level. "I guess it's time to find out if it's my day to be called by the Maker then. Let's get this over with before I take you up on that offer of running away. Speaking of which, would you really do that?"

His hazel orbs lock onto mine, "I would do it for you Alexa, if you wished it," then he relaxes and gestures for me to follow as he begins the journey back to camp, "In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm rapidly losing my ability to deny you anything. It's really quite unfair, if you ask me."

Duncan, Jory, and Daveth are waiting when we arrive. The other initiates chuckle under their breath until Alistair growls at them for being disrespectful. Duncan peers at us with a raised eyebrow, but says nothing about our tardiness.

The air around us becomes electric when Duncan begins speaking in his low, rough timbre. It's hard to focus on what he is saying though, as my attention keeps drifting to the blonde Warden standing a few feet behind him.

I have to restrain a horrified gasp though when it is revealed that the sole reason for us gathering the vials of darkspawn blood was because we were going to drink it. Alistair, possibly noticing my trepidation, steps in to explain that it is the blood that makes the Grey Wardens immune to the hellish creatures they fight.

The Warden Commander voice picks back up, "An added benefit of the controlled taint is that it gives them-us- the ability to sense when darkspawn are close by and also infuses us with the power to defeat the arch demon. Now come, let us speak the words that all Wardens before us have spoken at the time of their Joining."

"Oh Brothers and Sisters, join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day, we shall join you," I glance up to see Alistair gauging my reaction as he speaks the words of old.

"Daveth, step forward," Duncan commands, holding a large silver chalice in his hands which he extends to the other man, "Drink and know that from this day forward you are a Grey Warden."

Daveth leans forwards and takes one long drink before he falls back, writhing and choking. Black blood spews from his mouth as I try to pin his flailing body to the ground so no one is injured. My hands on his shoulders, I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. Maker's breath, they're completely white! I give a pleading look to Alistair as the man on the ground gasps for air, but he only answers with a slight shake of his head. Then the recruit's body goes limp under me.

"I am sorry Daveth, you will be remembered," the elder Warden turns to Jory next, "Step forward Ser Jory, and drink. From this moment on-"

Jory tumbles back, frantically drawing his blade, "Bb-but I have a wife, a child on the way! You cannot do this!"

"There is no other way," Duncan declares, but quickly hands the goblet off to the junior Warden and unsheathes his own sword when Jory rushes forward, his longsword poised to deal a lethal blow.

"This isn't right!" the knight shouts as he attacks, "There is no glory in this!"

But his skill is nothing against the many years of experience the older man has. "I am sorry Ser Jory." With two powerful swings and a single precision strike to the heart, the younger man falls into a heap.

He then turns to me where I am still kneeling next to the fallen Daveth, "It is your turn Alexa, will you drink?"

I close the dead man's eyes before standing, "I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't Duncan. But remember this, if I die, my blood is on your hands. I didn't want this, but if I survive, I am going to make the best of it by first destroying Arl Howe and then making your life a living hell."

"I understand Alexa," he responds, heightening my ire, then holds out the chalice once again.

I don't know why, but as I raise the goblet to my lips, Alistair's hazel orbs seek my green ones out and captures my gaze. On an impulse, I raise the cup to him in salute, then drink as much of the ichor I can before gagging and dropping to my knees.

Someone frees the chalice from my hands as the agony takes over my senses. My mind fills with the screams of the dead and my body is tortured by the demonic toxins coursing through it. My traitorous limbs flop and twitch without my consent while my bloodied mouth begs for death in the tongues of sorrow, anguish, rage, and despair.

When the seemingly endless waves of torment wane the smallest bit, I hear two voices float above the wails of eternal misery.

"She will live."

"Yes she will Duncan, of that I had no doubt...but will you?"

**Ooh, Lex is a little upset. I can't really blame her.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I guess I'm going to have to accept the fact that my darling readers are going to be stingy with their reviews...**

**I don't own. Ali and Zev would be chained in my basement if I did. Maybe Leli and Morrigan too! Lol**

"Why are you so upset Alistair? At least she survived," I hear Duncan question his prodigal just outside of the thin walls of the pavilion, "You yourself said you had no doubt of her ability to live."

"I know what I said, but Lex has lost so much Duncan, and now we've stolen any chance for her to have anything resembling a normal life," Alistair counters in a weary tone, "Did you even think to ask her if she wanted to marry or bear children someday? What if she reacts...badly...when she finds out that it's nearly impossible?"

The Warden Commander shifts around and I hear another log being dropped on to the fire, "Alexa lost any chance of having what you call a normal life the night Rendon Howe massacred her family. If I hadn't brought her with me when I did, I fear that her need for vengeance would have already made her dead at one of the Arl's guards hands, if not his own. The only thing that supersedes that unsettling thought is what they could have done to her before they took her life."

"She could have been dead either way and you know that."

"But at least with the Joining, the child wasn't subjected to being beaten or men forcing themselves on her beforehand," the older man lets out a heavy sigh, "You have become quite attached to her over these past few weeks, haven't you?"

The nervous shifting of armor betrays his discomfort at the inquiry. "Of course I've gotten attached, it's nigh impossible not to like her. She's witty, smart, refuses to back down from something she believes in...And she had no problem giving you what for. I must say that I particularly loved that part where she threatened to make your life a living hell, the look on your face was priceless. Big bad Warden Commander can face down an army of darkspawn without breaking a sweat and yet he's afraid of a little girl."

A low rumbling sound that vaguely reminds me of Havoc coughing floats through the air and it takes a while for me to realize that it is Duncan's laughter. "She is quite the spitfire when the need arises, I give you that, but that's not what I was asking and you know it."

"What do you want me to say?" more awkward armor rattling, "She is the most entrancing, frustrating, did I mention beautiful, creature I've ever laid eyes on? But why do you ask? Are you going to remind me that she's a teyrn's daughter and I should give up before I have a chance to embarrass myself?"

"Birthright has nothing to do with this Alistair," Duncan chides, "And if you insist it does, I'll remind you that you are the son of a king, therefore you are more than worthy to court the Lady Cousland, if that be your desire."

I nearly fall out of the cot at Duncan's proclamation. Alistair, son of a king? As in King Maric? No wonder he was squirreled away in a Chantry, it would have done Ferelden no good to know that Cailan was not the sole heir to the throne.

"How does one even do that Duncan?" the exasperation is clear in the younger man's tone, "Hi, I'm the bastard son of a king, care to have dinner with me? Facing a horde of darkspawn seems so much easier now, it's not like they care if I know proper courting etiquette or not. Besides, she's lived amongst nobility all her life, all of her suitors wealthy enough to cater to her every whim...the best I can do is promise to do my best not to let her get killed. I can't even offer her a home Duncan, unless you'd allow me to refurbish one of the apartments back at the stronghold?"

"Why don't you let her decide whether you are worthy of her affections or not? Alexa may be naive to our way of life, but I've not been blind to the way her eyes follow only you when you're near. My only suggestion is to wait until after the battle to speak with her on the matter, I fear it would distract the both of you otherwise."

Shadows play on the canvas as Duncan stands and stretches, "I'm going to check on her before retiring for the night. I suggest you do the same as the king has requested our presence in the morn."

I close my eyes and force my form back into its languid pose. Hands brush over my face, then one settles on my clavicle to check my breathing while the other grasps my wrist, testing the pulse. I can feel the Elder warrior lean close to my ear.

"I know you heard us talking Alexa so know that most of that conversation was for your benefit as much as it was his," the man whispers an a strangely warm tone, "That boy, I consider him a son... and I have you to thank for his recent change of demeanor. I have never seen him this happy, not even when I paroled him from the Chantry. Feel free to make good on your promise of making my life hell as long as you continue putting a smile on his face."

"I will try," I croak then smile when he dutifully brings a mug of water to my lips and helps me take a long swig.

"That is all I ask," his normally stormy eyes flicker with warmth, "Now rest young Warden, we have a meeting with the king on the morrow."

I roll onto my side and watch the Commander leave before my gaze once again finds its way back to the shadow of the young warrior standing by the fire. The only thing that prevents me from rushing out to tell him that I care for him as well is Duncan's words from before. Telling Alistair about my mutual affection would only distract him in the coming battle with the darkspawn and I would never be able to live with the guilt if he died because of my impatience.

Another half hour passes before rain begins to fall and Alistair retreats inside to be greeted by Havoc's stump thumping on the rug. After giving the mabari an affectionate pet and hanging a small lantern from a hook on the center support, he doesn't bother drawing the sheet closed as he disengages himself from the splint mail then meticulously hangs it on an armor stand.

I almost have enough conscience left to feel guilty instead of gratitude when he pulls his tunic over his head and tosses it on top of a sack of dirty laundry. Maker's word, I thought he was beautiful clothed! His bare arms, nearly as big around as my thighs, are the first things that draw my gaze. It then travels over the sculpted form of his torso, the muscles bulge and flex as he moves, making his skin ripple like silk on water. I move on with my observations, weaving ever...oh Andraste help me...

His well defined abdomen is trim and decadent, taunting me with a line of darker hair that follows the same path as the V of his hips. I absently note that his nimble hands are unlacing the breeches he had on under his armor, too bewitched by the exquisite body which those fingers are attached to to care. A swish of fabric jolts me from my ruminations, but it's too late by then to turn away as Alistair discards his pants and small clothes and I'm left gaping at the impressive size of his erm, lamp post.

I thank the Maker that he hasn't noticed my glowing red cheeks as he sifts through another bag and draws on a clean pair of cotton pants. I hasten to quite my racing thoughts when he picks up a another cot and sets it up parallel to mine on the other side of the small space, leaving just a few feet between our resting places. He moves back through the area, only to return with a pillow and a few blankets.

My eyelids are but slits while he prepares his bed. Less than pure visions assault me when the muscles of his back undulate with his movements and silently beg me to reach out and feel them move under my hands. I am at my breaking point when he suddenly pads over to the lantern and blows out the candle inside, leaving us in near total darkness.

Just like this morning—I think it was this morning- he leans over me, slides a hand over my hair, and lays a soft kiss on my forehead before slinking over to his own bed and laying down. He murmurs something I can't make out and shifts a few times before settling and I hear his breathing even out. Soon, the soothing sound relaxes me enough that I am able to follow him into the Fade once more.

**Short but sweet, in my opinion. I'd love to hear yours though.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm tired and cranky, so if there are any bad spelling mistakes, point them out and I'll deal with them later... *falls over and begins snoring ***

**Still don't own. **

_Big sodding dragon. The twisted monstrosity glares down at me—through me-and something in my very soul shifts. I know what this creature is._

_ The arch demon._

_ I move to draw my blades, but it raises its head and lets out a half roar, half wail that freezes me in place._

You cannot defeat me little human_ is what the gesture means._

_ Finally my blades come free, "Watch me," I counter and charge as blue violet fire comes spewing forth from its mouth._

I bolt up from the comfort of my bed. "What in the Maker was that?" I snap my head around, looking for my fellow Warden but, as usual, he is absent. Then it occurs to me that we have a meeting with the king this morning and I throw myself out of bed, rushing about to make ready.

My attention is so discombobulated that I don't notice Alistair until he speaks. "Where's the fire Lex? I'll get some of those cinnamon crackers and those sugar puffs you put on a stick and roast...maybe a few bottles of wine to drink as well... we'll need a spit to put a pig on though...and a pig to put on it of course. We'll make it a 'Lex Lived Through Her Joining' party, how does that sound?"

I make a none too ladylike gesture and continue donning my gear. "Aren't we supposed to confer with the king this morning? Why didn't you wake me?"

"I just came in with intentions of doing that very thing!" he exclaims with his trademark smirk, lifting up a tray of food, "I just thought I'd stop and get you some breakfast along the way because I remember how absolutely ravenous I was when I woke up from my joining. But if you're not interested..."

I open my mouth to reply, but my stomach answers for me with a loud rumbling, and I suddenly feel like I haven't eaten in weeks. I snatch the offered tray from his hands and starting munching my breakfast every bit as noisily as my war hound.

The warrior dips outside for a moment, returning with his own laden tray. "It's a side effect of the Joining," he nonchalantly announces as we dine, "The other Wardens just sat and laughed as I ate enough to feed a small village, like it was a right of passage for the new guys, erm, people to gorge themselves to the point of bursting. When no one was willing to tell me what was happening, I thought one of the mages had done something to me. It took Ser Michael explaining it for me to finally accept that the magic slingers weren't out to get me for having been an almost Templar."

"Why do we get so hungry then?"

He shrugs and feeds a chunk of bread to the dog laying at our feet, "Something to do with our bodies burning through the nutrients at an accelerated rate. You see, we gain abilities when we become tainted, and we have to compensate for the extra power consumption."

I lift an eyebrow in question. "Did he really tell you that?"

"Not all of it. He told me about the nutrients and I came to the conclusion about the power stuff from talking to different people about it. It's also a way to decipher Warden mages from regular ones, they out eat almost everyone else in the order."

"I bet those crazy cheese eating skills you acquired in the Chantry have been quite handy since becoming a Warden then," I tease, earning myself a shoulder nudge and a grin, "There's no use hiding it Ali, the proof is," I boldly reach out and wipe the crumbs from his chin, "All over your face."

His cheeks turn a lovely scarlet when my fingers accidentally gloss over his lips and he retreats under the pretense of taking a drink from his mug. I reconsider holding my tongue and start buckling under the need to tell him of my affection, but Duncan chooses that instant to enter the tent.

"Ah, good to see you up and about Alexa," he greets while shaking the rain from his cloak, "I've learned the source of Cailan's sudden need to talk with us. Last night he received news that the darkspawn hordes are much closer than we initially thought."

"How long?" Alistair asks, all humor absent from his tone, leaving a cold timbre in its stead.

"Twenty four hours, probably less," the Commander of the Grey confesses, "The rest of the Order will be leaving within the hour. I will be joining them after our discussion with the king."

"What about us?" Uh oh, I have a feeling that this isn't going to go over too well with my fellow Warden.

"Cailan has requested your presence," is all Duncan qualifies as he covers his head with a hood once again, "It is imperative that you attend this conference so dawdling is not wise. Come as soon as you're ready." With that, he exits the tent, leaving silence and confusion in his wake

"Maker's breath, would you tell me what just happened? Oh, sorry," he adds when I jump at his voice.

"From the sound of it, His Majesty wants us to do something for him that requires us to stay behind instead of marching with the rest of the Wardens," I surmise, setting my tray aside to finish armoring up, "We might as well head out now, I don't want to piss off our king on my first day as a Warden."

"But it's so much fun," the beautiful boy pouts even as he acquiesces to my logic, "What's the use of being an almighty Warden if you can't use it to your advantage sometimes?"

I roll my eyes at his cheekiness and strap on my daggers, "Well then, almighty Warden, use your powers for the greater good and find me some cookies. But until you procure them, we might as well go find Duncan and get this meeting over with."

"Cookies? Bah!" he scoffs but trails after me as I pull my hood up and lead the way to the king's grandiose pavilion.

The guards, having seen our slate grey cloaks as we approached, wave us inside out of the torrential downpour. I ignore the disapproving looks they give my mabari.

"- with the Wardens and I holding here, you should have no trouble outflanking them Loghain," Cailan is explaining over a detailed map on the table as we silently take our places beside a stoic Duncan, "Byron and Wendell's forces will be here, in this patch of woods, waiting for the horde to pass. They will attack from the rear along with Wilridge and Baile, who are coming in from the south east."

"Wouldn't it be more prudent for you to be with one of the larger forces Sire?" a woman I recognize as Banna Rebecca inquires.

The king shakes his head negatively, "No Becca, I need to stay mobile in order to make adjustments to the line as needed. With the Wardens specializing in guerrilla tactics and the sheer diversities of their talents, they can aid and defend me in any situation that arises."

"Methinks that you put too much faith in those damned Greycloaks," Teyrn Loghain throws a scowl in our direction, "It's time to set aside these foolish notions of glory and remember what's at stake here Cailan."

The gasps that erupt show that the teyrn's blatant omission of any title when referencing the king of Ferelden did not go unnoticed.

"It would do one well to also remember that they are speaking to the king," Duncan speaks for the first time since our arrival, "The armies nor the men and women who lead them can afford even the semblance of dissension when we already teeter on such a precarious edge."

"Pretentious old fool," Loghain grumbles, then turns to our sovereign, "My apologies your Majesty, I am just...frustrated with your plan. I fear that your desire to have this battle behind us is clouding your judgment when it comes to your safety. You are the king, which means you are more than the leader of our armies, you are also a symbol of Ferelden."

Cailan lets out a light chuckle, "Symbols don't win wars by simply appearing Loghain, you know that. But I think I understand. But can you honestly tell me that it would not be an inspiring thing for the troops, seeing their king fighting alongside them? Those are the ones that history remembers, not the ones who hid behind a wall of soldiers. I refuse to fall into obscurity because I didn't take the field."

"I-as you wish my liege," Loghain bows in defeat, though I see the muscles of his jaw working frantically, "Perhaps we should discuss the supply dumps?"

Their tactical discussion fades into the background when Alistair bumps my arm and signals for me to follow he and the Commander back out into the wet morning. Side by side, we stroll behind the elder Warden until he pauses under a patch of dry ground protected by the ruins. Alistair beams me a little smirk when he, Havoc, and Duncan situate me farthest from the rain.

"I guess we're going to wait the rain out here?" I break the silence after many minutes of watching the water drop from the stone overhang.

The Warden Commander nods in consent from his position against the crumbling wall, "The rain is bad enough that some of the tents have begun to leak, I thought this a better place to rest until it wanes. It also gives us time to discuss what Cailan wanted."

"I was wondering why he didn't bring it up when we arrived," Alistair muses while trying to light the damp bramble he'd gathered from inside our refuge.

"He wants a Grey Warden lighting the beacon on top of Ishal tower when it's time to signal Loghain and his forces," the man elaborates after taking a vial of red liquid and pouring it on the damp wood, "I offered to send the two of you."

"Is it going to be that dangerous that you needed to suggest sending two?" I ask him, suddenly weary with standing around and waiting.

"Not dangerous in the way you think, but essential to the king's plan. You and Alistair are already in the camp and the tower is right on the other side of the bridge. I do not mean to seem doubtful of your abilities Alexa, but you have just woken from your Joining and I refuse to put you in jeopardy so soon if it can be avoided." His tone seems sincere, but something tells me that he isn't telling the whole truth.

"What? No!" the junior Warden explodes, his fire tending duties forgotten, "If the Wardens are going afield we should be down there with you, not up here playing torchbearer!"

Our leader is unruffled by the young man's outburst, "Then you have the honor of telling the king yourself that you have decided not to follow his direct order. I have a feeling that he won't stop with giving you a stern talking to though since most people who defy their king during wartime are usually executed for treason."

Alistair's rugged features pale and his mouth silently open and closes a few times before slouching in defeat, "Oh alright. What are we supposed to do?"

Duncan gives me a subtle wink then dives headlong into the details of our mission for the next hour or so. By the time he releases us, the lunch bells are ringing in time with Alistair and Havoc's pathetic grumbling.

The elder Warden bids us farewell then heads to the Warden encampment, leaving Alistair and I to essentially fend for ourselves until after the battle.

After eating, we wander back to our tent to see how it's fared in the rain. Having expected most of our belongings to be at least damp, I'm happy to be proven wrong when we slip into a perfectly dry tent. Alistair argues that it has to be because we're situated under a cluster of pine trees and that is what protected us from the same fate so many of our fellow soldiers have suffered.

There isn't much to do after cleaning our armor and weapons, then tidying up our shared space. We spend a few hours playing dice and telling one another stories of our childhood.

It's after dinner and our baths that we're sitting under the awning of the tent, packing last minute supplies into our bags, when I find the little soldier statue that I'd bought off of the quartermaster. It glints a little in the firelight as I turn it over in my hand.

Would he really want something like this? Or is he going to laugh in my face and call me a naïve little girl? Guess there is only one way to find out. "Ali, I-um," great now I'm stammering like an idiot.

"Yes Lex?" his hazel orbs shift from the book in his hands and up towards me, "Something you need?"

"I—I got...someth-thing...for y-you..Here," I push the figurine into his hand and stalk off into the tent before he has a chance to react to the gift.

By the time I spot his hulking figure come through the flap, I've half convinced myself that he's going to laugh, yell, or tell me to leave.

"This, this is just...Wow, Lex," he sputters, causing my jaw to hit the floor, "I mean really wow. Thank you so much for this."

I unfurl my body and sit up on my cot, "When I saw it in a box the quartermaster had, it made me think of you. You have done so much to show me around, make me feel welcome...hell, you went as far as to let me stay in your tent with you instead of making me find my own or sleep on the ground. It's a meager thank you, but it is heartfelt."

He draws closer then drops to one knee so our heads are level, "Alexa Rose, I will cherish this for the rest of my days simply because it came from you. I was hoping that if, you know, we survive this, would you consid-" The deep resonating bellows of the alarm horns drown him out. In a flash, he's on his feet, pulling me with him. "It's time, get your gear!"

I'm still in my armor, so I grab my pack, toss on Havoc's harness, and sling my cloak on as I race after the former Templar. Something about the horns sound off as we go, and I fight through the chaos in my head until I'm suddenly grabbed by two large arms and thrown to the side just as a boulder the size of a black bear crashes into the stone wall beside us.

"The horns are wrong!" I shout to my fellow Warden as we fight our way through the din, "They're coming from the wrong way Alistair!"

"What?" he cups a gauntlet clad hand behind his ear.

I point in the direction of the tower, "The horns aren't coming from down on the field, Ali, they are coming from the tower!"

Oh how I wish I'd been wrong. Maybe then I wouldn't have died upon that sodding tower.

**I'm not even going to try and do a play by play of Tower Ishal because it's way too much damn work and we already know what happens anyways lol**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yeah, I own nothing copyrighted, but happen to be the unwilling owner of an entire clan of typo gremlins. Lucky me :-P **

What had started as a determined march back to Ostagar in search of survivors after Morrigan and Flemeth saved us from the tower had rapidly evolved into something else. Darkspawn still roamed the battlefield in droves, all the way into what had been the king's camp just a few short weeks ago. Morrigan had warned us that we would not be pleased with what we were likely to find and she wasn't wrong.

Alistair looked like a god of war as his sword raised and fell against his enemies, the hollowness that had been in his eyes since waking up in Flemeth's hut replaced with something so raw and black that the kindest word to describe it is pure hatred. As he fought, I heard him muttering curses that I didn't think was possible for the once naive warrior to know.

_ Even Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar._

That is what the dying guardsman had said to us before imploring that we find the key to the king's royal arm's chest. Unfortunately for us, the sodding thing had been hidden back in the camp at the foot of a statue. He'd insisted that Cailan only trusted the Wardens with its contents, but hadn't had the time to give the key to Duncan before we were attacked. The chest itself held Maric's sword and supposedly documents concerning Cailan's dealings with the Orlesians. It was only after fighting our way to the chest did we learn that the king, daft as he might have seemed, had indeed been in contact with Empress Celene over allying against the coming Blight.

As I watch Alistair stare into nothing over the campfire, it's not too difficult to decipher what his thoughts are about. The silver chalice being rolled between his hands only reinforces that.

My eyes drift down to the sword and dagger laying on his bedroll. Duncan's own weapons, pulled out of the twice killed ogre. I would have left them in the beast, but the look on Alistair's face when he saw them...

"So, where do we go from here?" Morrigan banters as she enters the ring of light flickering around the fire.

I throw a glance towards Alistair, but he doesn't even acknowledge that the wild woman had spoken. I drop the shirt I'd been mending onto my bedroll and shrug, "I think heading to Lothering would be best at the moment. With all of the gear we have managed to salvage, we might be able to sell it and purchase some much needed supplies. I'm also hoping that we might be able to find out about any other survivors before marching all over this Maker forsaken kingdom, trying to gain allies for what is to come."

The other woman crouches down and extends her hands to soak in the warmth of the blaze, "Why do you continue to pursue this? Your precious order has fallen, your king is dead, surely you know when you've been outmatched?"

"What do you know witch?" Alistair suddenly growls before climbing to his feet and storming into the dark.

"Because it's the right thing to do Morrigan," I try not to let it show just how much the warrior's outburst has rattled me, "And because if we don't, no one else will...and then soon enough, the darkspawn will make sure that no place in Ferelden is safe."

One inky eyebrow lifts over her golden gaze, "And why should I care whether Ferelden falls or not?"

"Mostly because with the darkspawn overrunning the world, they won't care if you are an apostate, a farmer, or a sodding bronto wrangler. You'll die just the same."

"Tis sound logic, though I still am not convinced that skull fracture didn't do more damage than Mother originally thought," Morrigan straightens then peers down at me, "See to your bumbling companion Warden, for I believe that if our lives are going to be dependent on him, he needs to be in fit enough shape to fight." With that, she slinks off back to her own fire.

Havoc, who has been steadfastly watching the direction my fellow Warden stomped off in, gives me a low woof as I pat his head and gesture for him to lead me to the man.

I slowly make my way along the meager path Alistair had made when he came through but am beginning to worry about the distance from camp we are until I see his large form hunched over by a stream. He doesn't seem to notice my or the mabari's presence and I can tell why almost immediately. The former Templar's shoulders are bobbing disjointedly and a muffled gasping noise is emanating from him. Alistair, for all of his confidence and penchant for bad jokes, is crying.

I pad over and silently take a seat beside him on the flat rock. "You want to talk about it?"

His gaze doesn't move from his lap. "It's so difficult...they were the only family I ever had. Duncan, he...he never treated me like I was some charity case like Eamon did, nor did any of the others. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere and now-they're gone. You don't know how-"

"Arl Howe and his men slaughtered my entire family in the middle of the night," I interject, the hole in my chest ripping itself open as the words escape, "I was the only one to survive, but that was only because Duncan knocked me out and left my parents to die. My brother...was one of the scouts sent into the Wilds before the battle..."

"You're really that Alexa? Alexa Cousland?" his head snaps up to leer appraisingly at me, "The jewel of the Cousland family, that's what they called you, wasn't it? I thought Duncan was pulling my leg.""

I shake my head curtly, "Not anymore, I'm not. She died that night with her family and will be buried when Rendon Howe is dead. I'm simply Alexa Rose, a Grey Warden like yourself. No more, no less."

"All this time I've been feeling sorry for myself, never realizing how much harder it has been for you," he murmurs, shifting a bit so we can see eye to eye, "I promised that I would look out for you and yet left you all alone when you needed me the most. I'm so sorry Lex."

"I'm not worried about me right now," I hasten to reassure him while fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my torso to prevent myself from flying apart, "I'm worried about a friend who needs me."

The corners of his lips twitch upward, "You know, this right here proves what I'd said to you before. You are so strong, more than I could ever hope to be."

I pat his arm, "Especially when it comes to cheese. I swear, if the darkspawn came at you with wheels of that stuff, you'd throw down your weapons and run at them with a smile on your face."

That does it. The smile I'd grown so fond of reappears like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud, "If the darkspawn were using cheese as their chosen weapon, I'd beat them single handedly. It certainly beats putting on a dress and doing the Remigold, though I'd imagine that would throw them for a loop."

"Now that's something I think I might like to see," I chortle.

His gaze shifts from jovial to something so intense I almost have to look away. "For you, I'd do it." There is that phrase again! "Only for you though, I do have a reputation to maintain after all."

I push myself up then extend a hand to aid him, "You are such a tease. Now come on, let's get back to camp before Morrigan decides we need to be turned into something more unnatural than we already are."

As soon as he is on his feet, I am swallowed up in his arms, "Thank you Lex. I don't know what I'd do without you now..."

"I feel the same way Ali," I mumble into his chest, all the while silently thanking the Maker that I'm not alone in this mess that has become my life.

"Tell me you're not serious about taking these two lunatics with us?" Alistair growls, refusing to budge from the outskirts of the town, "The dwarves I understand, we need a merchant we can trust, but a rage prone Qunari and a delusional lay sister? Do you plan on collecting every misfit and outcast you can find along the way? We're trying to build an army, not a madhouse Lex!"

"They're certainly not the only misfits I've gathered Alistair," I retaliate, tired of his childish tantrum, "You're part of this group too, aren't you? Besides, we need all the help we can get right now."

The warrior points back to the sour faced Qunari soldier who is currently holding the lead to our newly acquired pack mule, "But Lex, he is a murderer!"

I take my helm off and glare at him, "So are we, it's what Grey Wardens are made for. We kill anything that we need to in order to keep Ferelden safe. Not that it matters much to you, because if you hadn't become a Warden, you would have spent your life killing mages that refused to bow down to the Chantry's will. It wouldn't have mattered how old they were either. So tell me, how is that any different?"

I'm almost positive that his eyes are going to pop out of his skull, "We don't murder people just because we're pissed off about something!"

"Really? You seemed awfully intent on killing anything that moved after seeing the wasteland of Ostagar and that was compounded on when we found the king's body and burned it. If I remember correctly, you promised to put Loghain's head on a spike. Don't fucking push me on this Alistair, you won't win."

"And if I refuse?" he crosses hims arms over his chest and if I were anyone else, he would certainly be as intimidating as he is attempting to be.

"You're outvoted two to one, three if you count the dog," I huff, my irritation growing to new heights as the sun moves lower in the sky, "You know I won't ever make you leave, but I can't make you stay if you don't want to..." Why did saying that hurt so much? I try to blink away the wetness gathering in the corners of my eyes. "I supposed you will do what's best for you, in the end."

My words seem to finally register in the young man's brain because he lunges towards me, "No! I never said that I wanted to leave! Oh Maker..." he pulls a hand free from its gauntlet and raises it to my face, "Please don't cry Lex. I'm not going anywhere, I swear. I-I just got upset because I don't understand why you-"

My anger flares white hot and my hands curl into fists at my sides, "You are more than welcome to start making these decisions since you're actually the senior Warden and all. I'm doing the best with what I have Alistair, so either take charge and tell me what needs to be done or shut up and do as I say. What's it going to be?"

We are standing nearly toe to toe at this point, so what my fellow Warden does next nearly knocks me on my arse. The hand he had held to my cheek is suddenly threading itself through my hair while his mouth crashes into mine. The world falls away at the contact, making me forget about blights and treaties and adopting vagabonds into our rag tag group. Drawing away isn't an option on account of his steely grip, so I surrender myself to innocent but eager ministrations of his velvety soft lips. I glide my tongue along his bottom lip, begging for entrance, as my own fingers wind their way into his sun kissed locks. I can feel his momentary hesitation at the silent plea, but his trust in me prevails and he quickly allows me to deepen the kiss.

It could have been seconds or even years before he gently draws back and touches his forehead to mine, "Maker, but you are beautiful, especially when you are angry. A little scary as well. That wasn't...too soon was it?"

My ire now completely dissolved, I can't stop one side of my mouth from curling upwards, "I don't know Ali, does that mean you are going to trust my judgment from now on?"

He nods his acquiescence, "Your desire is my command my lady. I promise that I will do my best never to question you again but, just so you know, all bets are off if cheese is involved."

Somewhere behind us, Sten decides to alert us that there is still a world out there. "You humans have strange ways of parleying. I certain hope that I am not expected to resort to such methods as well."

"Sten, they are merely kissing," Leliana argues in her beautiful accent, "I've only been in their presence a few hours and could see the affection they have for one another. It has nothing to do with parleying...well, not really."

"I think I'm going to be ill," Morrigan quips, forcing Alistair and I to break apart chuckling.

Alistair raises his hands up in surrender, "Okay, I give up. Lex, if you're sure about them staying, then they stay, just remember whose idea it was when you want to murder one of them for some sarcastic remark they make."

"Fine, as long as you remember that your mouth gets you into just as much trouble," I chortle before mussing his hair, which earns me a glare, then point towards a low hill in the distance, "We can make that hill before nightfall. It looks like a good place to make camp, so I suggest we be on our way while we have some daylight left. Any arguments?"

Alistair shrugs and smirks at me, the other women shake their heads in agreement, Sten just scowls and gives a little tug on the mule's lead. Havoc is content to run circles around us as we make our journey to where we will rest tonight, occasionally darting off into the bushes after rabbits and the like.

When we arrive, the bard and I undertake the task of erecting the tents while Alistair and Sten gather firewood and Morrigan erects a protective barrier around the site. When we're finished, Leliana offers to make dinner while the rest of us take turns bathing in the stream Sten found.

I wait until the others have had a chance to wash before grabbing my soap and the few dirty clothes I have in my possession. There is no use trying to keep the mabari in camp when I go, so I pat my leg in silent command and he bounds after me. Little does he know that I'm not the only one who is going to get a thorough scrubbing tonight.

Once stripped down and in the pleasantly cool water, I tackle the tangled mess my hair has become. Though I'd kept in wrapped in a leather thong, it's still somehow managed to turn itself into a rat's nest. "Andraste's sword," I mutter, now seriously contemplating on using my dagger to cut the mess off.

"I can help you with that," Morrigan announces as she emerges into the feeble light of the lantern, "Unless you would rather your fellow Warden come crashing in, thinking that your frustrated cries were something of a more sinister nature."

"Oh, um, yes please," I quickly smother the surprised expression on my face and move to the edge of the water, "I really appreciate this Morrigan."

"Tis not too much of a bother," she retorts as her comb and dainty hands make quick work of my crimson mane, "Besides, the dimwitted oaf you call your friend is still decidedly unnerved by my presence and I thought I'd reward his restraint by making myself scarce for a time."

"Lull him in a false sense of security you mean," I tease, earning myself a gravelly chortle from the apostate, "You know, he wouldn't be so bad if you stopping giving him a hard time about everything."

"And what would be the fun in that?" she openly laughs this time, "He seeks to cover up his insecurities by intimidating me with his Templar training. I hate to tell you this little Warden, but he fails miserably. He is not the first mage hunter I've encountered and will certainly not be the last. They are easy to mislead and even easier to keep fumbling."

"Did you come across a lot of Templars in the Wilds?" I glance up at her as I lather my hair.

She folds herself down to sit the bank and shrugs, "Twas not only in the Wilds I've had the misfortune of seeing them. Mother would often have me travel to the town we just passed through to trade for supplies. There were times when I was a child that she would use me as bait to lure them into the swamps, then we'd strip their corpses of what useful items we could find."

"She used you as bait? That's awful!" I exclaim while rinsing the soap out of my locks, "Why would she do that to a child?"

"Why do you care about it so much?" I'm startled at the edge in her tone.

"Why wouldn't I?" I counter, climbing out of the water and reaching for my towel, "You helped us when you didn't have to, which I will forever be grateful for, and now you're traveling with a band of lunatics led by the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden who also happen to be trying to build an army to fight a Blight that we may or may not be able to stop. Besides, you're very interesting. And, if you wanted, you could ask me stuff about my life too. It's only fair."

The woman gets to her feet, an expression on her face a mix of confusion and disbelief, "Yes, well that is going to have to wait either way. Your faithful hound is heading this direction."

I give a sidelong long look to Havoc, who is still moping over his bath, then back to where Morrigan was standing, but she's nowhere to be found. With a sigh, I finish dressing and have just picked up my still wet but now laundered clothes when Alistair materializes.

"You've been gone so long, I was starting to get worri..." his voice trails off as I swing my wet hair over my shoulder, "Wow, you're hair is really long. I mean really really long! It's-"

"Annoying as all hell because it takes hours to dry?" I offer, too amused by his awed gaze to be upset about his over protectiveness.

He shakes his head while his fingers unconsciously reach out to play with the curls at my waist, "I was going to say glorious. I've never seen a woman with hair this long. Most of the women in the Chantry only let theirs grow to their shoulders and those that were Templars kept theirs even shorter."

"Sometimes I think I would have a much easier time if I cut mine that short," I confess while picking my way back up the path.

"Why would you do that? It's beautiful just the way it is. And that shade of red, so unique, I don't think I've ever seen anyone else with such a vibrant color. It's not a bad thing!" he adds when he sees my grimace, "Oh Maker's breath, I'm trying Lex. Templars are taught early on that things like this have no place in their lives. I must seem such a fool in comparison to the suitors you are used to having."

I turn around and stop him with a hand on his muscular chest, "Stop worrying so much Alistair. Whatever this is between us, whatever we are to each other, I can assure you that it is infinitely better than any of the arrogant, self serving half-wits that I've had to swallow my hatred for and play nice with."

"It's the hair, isn't it?" he smirks, effectively dissolving the bubble that had begun to build up around us, "I knew my amazing coif would come in handy one day."

"I think I understand your obsession with cheese now Ali. You recognize your own kind," I reply with a snorting laugh before pushing off of him and trekking back to camp.

He makes no move to follow me to my tent, much to my disappointment, but I remind myself that I was just as jumpy around him not a few days ago. Not to mention his utter lack of knowledge when it comes to the more adult aspects of a relationship.

I make quick work of my clothes, hanging them on a length of twine I'd tethered between two trees, before dipping inside of my shelter to retrieve my cloak. What I see brings me to a dead standstill.

Lying on my bedroll is a scarlet rose tied to a silver filigree bracelet with a strip of blue ribbon.

**Yeah, so not attempting to write a scene that we all know by heart. Instead I did something similar to what my husband did with a necklace, using a bracelet instead.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Anyone else ready to rip their hair out getting kids ready for school?**

**I own nothing copyrighted...even my porn belongs to someone else :-P**

"Stupid nug humpi-sonofabitch!" I bellow as Wynne applies the healing salve to the gash on the left side my face and neck, "Idiot Templars...psychotic blood mages...sodding demons..."

"Hush child," the elder mage gently chides as her fingers dance from my forehead to my jaw, "Be glad that we escaped with our lives, and the lives of those in the tower, intact. Uldred was no mere apprentice after all. "

"No thanks to that infernal bastard Greagoir," Leliana adds with a scoff, surprising everyone with her choice of words, "He was more than willing to let all of those innocent people die rather than do his duty. And they say that there is no honor among thieves! I would never leave innocent people to be slaughtered like that!"

"We should have stayed at the tower," my fellow Warden appears with Sten in tow, both carrying the supplies that we'd managed to guilt the Templars out of after we'd done their job for them, "One of the less injured mages could have healed your face much faster than this Lex. No offense Wynne."

"None taken, since it's obvious that your are a master of the 'Open Mouth, Insert Foot' technique," she chuckles then, like the maternal creature she is, proceeds to bat my probing hand away without looking up from her task, "This is going to leave a scar Alexa, but how badly it will be is entirely up to you, so sit still and let me work."

I really should have known better than to try and take on an entire tower that was swarming with delusional spell slingers and abominations armed with nothing but a former Templar, a mabari, and eventually the aging healer, but I couldn't bear the thought of all of those people dying under the Rights of Annulment. So I did what the Cousland's have done for centuries, I volunteered to seek out survivors and dispose of the threat.

Thinking back on things, I should have brought the inky haired apostate because of her fierceness in battle, but at the time I didn't want to put her through the glares and inevitable questions that would come. Her willingness to help the Mage Collective while we sought out the First Enchanter promised some cold hard coin, so I'd told her to take Leliana and Sten with her and we would meet back at the inn afterward.

My fingers absently find the delicate bangle on my left wrist as flickers of my time in the Fade seep back into my thoughts.

_The early morning sun filters through the window, heralded by the tinkling laughter of two small children playing somewhere close by. _

_ "Time to wake up love," a familiar warm velvet voice cooes, "Bryce and Len insisted that we make you breakfast this morning." _

_ I roll over and sit up in the large bed. Glancing around, I have to blink my eyes a few times to focus on my surroundings. Am I in a castle? Where? Highever maybe? Doubt it. I don't recognize the view._

_ "Late night?" he asks after seating himself at the edge of the mattress and sliding the tray of food onto my lap._

_ I try to remember what could have possibly made me feel this...disconnected, but the memories flee into the shadowy corridors of my mind. Finally I shake my head and look up at him, "I honestly can't remember Alistair. I had this awful dream about the Circle tower-my face!" _

_ Throwing back the ornately decorated duvet, I hurl myself at the floor length mirror resting in the corner. The woman peering back at me has lost the soft roundness of young adulthood, leaving in its wake more angular features reminiscent of my mother's Antivan grandmother. Her features are not ravaged by a huge gaping scar, but instead accentuated by a fine silver line that flows from her hairline, down over the edge of her left eyebrow, hugging the curve of her cheek and jaw, to eventually vanish along the ivory slope of her neck._

_ Hips are wider, breasts more full and soft, and her body is voluptuously rounded with the added weight that comes with adulthood. More silvery scars cris-cross her body, but not in such a manner that would make her hideous. They seem to add to her beau-_

_ Suddenly two massive arms snake around my waist and Alistair rests his chin on my shoulder. "My beautiful goddess of war. Once I saw you with that scar, every other woman in the world instantly turned into a hag. Though, if truth be told, they weren't fairing much better before it happened. You ruined me for all others with that glorious mane of scarlet hair and those piercing green eyes that rival the purest emerald in beauty...and I've never been happier." He leans in and feathers kisses along the pale marred flesh before taking a step back, "Now Your Majesty, come and eat, the prince and princess have been waiting to see what you think of your birthday breakfast. I should warn you though, cheese was involved."_

_ Your Majesty? Prince and Princess? I turn to peer down at the little boy and his sibling. They are no more than five or six summers old-twins perhaps?-the boy has a wavy shock of wheat blonde hair, his eyes-like looking into my own-the girl-oh...crimson ringlets trail down her back while her hazel eyes twinkle with a frantic energy that only the very young possess. Another glance out of the window and it finally dawns on me what I am seeing. It's Denerim._

_ "Something wrong my dear?" Alistair interrupts my internal musings with a tug of his hand._

_ I gaze up at him and notice that he looks just the way he did back when..._

_ The demon._

_ "Alistair, something isn't right," I hiss into his ear, not missing the fact that the so called children are now glowering at me from across the opulent chambers, "I can't remember anything past the Circle tower...when we were trying to save the mages."_

_ "I was afraid this would happen today, my love," his tone shifts from loving to something akin to sympathetic,"You've been so forgetful since that head wound you sustained when we defeated the archdemon. Sometimes it can take days for the memories to return, but they will, I assure you."_

_ Could that be it? I reach my hand back and feel for any evidence of this supposed injury. When __I find none the warmth of the room flees, leaving the more familiar icy haze of death. "No Alistair, something is really wrong. I think that demon did something to us-"_

"There, all done," the weary tone of the wizened mage brings me back to the present, "You'll have to reapply the ointment every few hours and for the Maker's sake girl, don't scratch it, that will exacerbate the build up of scar tissue."

"Yes Wynne," I sigh and open my eyes to see Alistair's large hand reaching down for my own. I gladly accept it and allow him to gingerly pull me into a sitting position, careful not to strain the stitching on my side. Havoc lifts his massive head and wags his stump from his spot in front of the hearth, but makes no move to come over. He's probably as sore as I feel so I can't blame him for not wanting to move.

"You must be famished Lex," the Orlesian pipes up, dancing over with a tray, "I worked out a deal with the innkeeper and managed to get us free dinner every night we're here, so don't worry about rationing for the time being."

"What kind of deal did you make? Nothing that is going to get you arrested or hung I hope," I ask after gratefully taking the tray and digging into the roasted chicken and vegetables.

She waves her hand dismissively, "I just have to play a few songs while his dinner traffic wanders through Lex, no need to worry about little old me. I need the practice anyway since it's been so long since I played anything but hymns in the Chantry."

"Yes, one must absolutely practice singing and playing the most tawdry songs in Ferelden because t'would be such a shame if they were forgot," Morrigan saunters into the room, a small wooden crate filled with various empty vials and tubs under one arm with a sack of herbs and her mortar and pestle in the other, "Our fearless leader needs her rest, so out with all of you before I reconsider my promise not to turn you into anything less annoying."

Everyone shuffles out but Havoc, who is once again snoring by the fire, and Alistair, who is giving the witch and incredulous look. "Lex needs someone to look after her, so I'm staying."

"Like hell you are," Morrigan sneers, her umber gaze boring into the young man, "I left her in your care once already and look at her! Ripped to shreds and nearly blinded. I think you've "looked after" her enough Templar. Get. Out."

"Stop bickering children," I mutter while pushing away the now empty tray, "I'll be fine with Morrigan for now Ali. Go bathe and get something to eat, you look like both would do you a lot of good. When you're ready, we'll sit down and discuss what to do next."

He's not happy about it, but he concedes after I threaten to make him help me take a bath. "Don't do anything to hurt yourself," he murmurs before lightly pressing his lips to mine, then grazing them over my knuckles, "I'll be back in an hour."

I can't help but smile as he throws the apostate a warning glare on his way out. I wait until his footsteps have faded before hobbling over to my pack and digging out a tattered leather journal. No time like the present.

"It's good you wanted to stand guard over me," I surmise while watching her grind the herbal mixture, "I found something in the tower that I believe you will find interesting."

"It's not that book of Leliana's that has all of the illustrations of people demonstrating how to perform lewd acts I hope, because seeing it once twas plenty enough to do irreparable damage to my psyche," she deadpans, pausing in her work to add a few drop of the ever glowing azure lyrium, "I think I should vomit on her fancy blue slippers if she presents it ever again."

"What? Erm, no," I toss a pillow to the floor and ease myself down on it before shoving the book under her nose, "I found this is the First Enchanter's office and before you waste a perfectly good insult, I know you normally wouldn't give a damn about anything from that place, but this is different, I promise. The journal mentions Flemeth-I mean more than mention actually. I think it's hers."

Upon hearing her mother's name, she cleans her hands off on her pants and takes the journal. I sit silently as she peruses its contents, occasionally gasping or muttering under her breath. To keep myself entertained, I take over grinding the concoction in the bowl while humming to the tune Leliana is playing just beneath us.

She is enraptured by the piece of literature for so long that I am wrapping a bandage around the small tub of healing ointment when she speaks again. "Tis truly my mother's journal. But why give it to me? Surely you must want something in return."

"It was not mine to keep Morrigan. It belongs to your mother, and by association, you. Consider it a gift of sorts."

"What do you want in payment then?" the tone she uses is dubious.

I sigh and shift to look at her, "I don't want anything. Haven't you ever gotten a gift before?"

She shakes her head no, "But I did give one once. When I was a child, I stole a beautiful golden mirror from a noblewoman and gave it to my mother. She chastised me for taking senseless risks and smashed it on a rock. That was the only time I ever attempted to give some trivial thing to anyone, unless you count the times I've been forced to speak to your pet Templar or the hyperactive bard turned religious fanatic. "

"That was a terrible thing to do to a child!" I gasp, unable to tell if I am more horrified of Flemeth's callousness or Morrigan's pained expression.

"Do not feel sorry for me," the mage hisses in response, "She was right to such a thing, it saved me from a lot of things as I delved more into the outside world. You must want something in exchange for such a fine gift."

"And exactly what did the swamp hag save you from? Actually caring about people and wanting to see them happy instead measuring their worth by what they can do for you?" I heave myself up from the floor, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side, and grab my pillow, "It was a sodding book that I thought my friend would like, that's all. There was no ulterior motive, but you aren't going to believe a word I say so I'm going to lay back down before we both say something we'll regret come morning."

"You will regret it, you mean," she snarls, though with less venom that she would normally use, "Whereas I've learned that guilt is as useless as love. You'll understand one day, when your fellow Warden leaves you behind in favor of something less...damaged. Knights dream of princesses, not beleaguered Wardens with scars all over her body."

"You know, you are a heartless shrew sometimes. I hope that's a comfort when you finally chase off everyone that cares about you," I huff over my shoulder and bury myself under the covers like a petulant child while wondering where things had so terribly gone wrong tonight.

**Short I know, and I'm sorry, but I haven't had a ton of time lately.**


	11. Chapter 11

**My hubby insists that the tiff between our Warden and Morrigan isn't over yet...I guess we'll see...**

**Oh, and do you really think I'd be writing fan fiction if I owned the rights to Dragon Age?**

_In War, Victory._

_In Peace, Vigilance._

_In Death, Sacrifice._

At least that is what the Warden's Oath tells us. Some days, like today, I'm not so sure. Right now I'd be perfectly fine with sacrificing at least one of my companions for a little peace and quiet.

Morrigan has spent most of her time in animal form as we've plodded towards Redcliffe, searching for herbs along the way that could be useful to her and Wynne, so there has been little chance to confront her about our spat. Leliana, prudently keeping mum about her religious views, has used much of the journey to poke fun at Sten and his newly revealed obsession with cookies, while Havoc and Alistair have done pretty much everything in their power to prevent me from having a single moment to myself.

Shifting in the uncomfortable saddle, I barely restrain groaning in pain. I still don't understand why we didn't take advantage of the ferry that travels up and down the lake, other than Sten turning a more unhealthy shade of grey when Wynne suggested it. Even with both mages more than willing to put him in a magically induced slumber for the trip, he snarled his unhappiness with the thought until the group decided to trek around the lake on horseback instead. With all of the potions that Wynne has been forcing down my throat, I might have still preferred taking the boat, mainly so I could toss her in after my third round of vomiting.

"Something troubling you my dear?" Alistair inquires for the thousandth time since we set out this morning.

I glower at him, perched on his buckskin stallion, and resist the urge to kick him off the equine's back. _Remember that Wardens kill people for being evil, not stupid or overprotective._ "Alistair, I'm fine," I finally grind out between clenched teeth, "I just want to find out for sure whether the rumor we heard about the Arl being sick is true or not."

"Still, you look a little...irritated, want to talk about it?"

I swear that if he wasn't so adorable in his honest concern, I'd probably have forcibly removed his tongue by now. "I'm just tired and my rear is killing me," I glibly evade then scan the hills surrounding us, "It's going to frost tonight, maybe even snow. We might want to think about setting up camp early to give us some extra time to gather firewood. What do you think?"

I watch the gears turn in his head for a long minute before he nods his assent, "Since I know that I'm going to be on wood detail, think you and Havoc can scare us up a couple of rabbits so everyone can go to bed with a warm meal in their bellies?"

"Not a problem," I reach back and uncover the half dozen conies the mabari had gifted me with today, "I also have a few waterfowl that we can pluck and roast. Wynne has a bag of vegetables that I know she'd be more than happy to let us plunder and with Morrigan collecting all those herbs, we have a veritable feast on our hands!"

His smile cleaves huge chunks out of my wall of irritation, "That sounds perfect Lex! If things are as bad in Redcliffe as we've been led to believe, it might be a while before any of us get the luxury of a full stomach and a warm tent. What would we do without you?"

"Get eaten by darkspawn if Sten doesn't catch you filching his sweets before then," I quip as he reaches out and threads his fingers through mine. It's strange how he manages to push away everything wrong with my life with a simple smile, a gentle touch, and an offer to listen without judgment.

"I wasn't stealing them, you know," he insists, sounding every bit the little boy I'd dreamed of in the Fade, minus the demonic possession of course, "Wynne told me that Sten said she could have one of his cookies any time she wished and I was simply fetching one for her."

Before I can answer, a crow with violet tipped wings circles overhead, cawing as it spirals lower. The dark form blurs and enlarges as it touches the red earth, revealing our wayward witch.

"Well, I see you haven't managed to kill each other yet. Should I come back in a few hours?" Morrigan taunts while securing yet another canvas sack of pilfered goods to the pack mule.

I ignore her haughtiness and Alistair's disdainful grunt, "We're going to be making camp early this evening Morrigan, did you see any place in your travels that would be suitable?"

She nods while weakly pushing my war hound away from her, "There is one place I came upon t'would adequately suit our purpose. Tis a decent sized niche in the rock wall only a few hours west of here. We'll have to make do with the meager pond about seventy five yards from it though if we want to bathe or anything."

"Bathe? In this frigid weather? Are you insane?" the other Warden impetuously rebukes, "We'll all catch our deaths, but I'm guessing that's your plan, isn't it?"

An indelicate snort escapes the woman, "Let me guess, you're also a firm believer that if your feet get cold, you will catch a fever in the head? Tis times like these that I truly worry about the extent of your brain damage, then I remember that you did train as a Templar and the concern mysteriously vanishes."

"That drivel, coming out of the mouth of a woman who seems utterly incompetent when trying to dress herself," Alistair's guffaw is bitter, "Maybe we should have left you at the tower and let those Templars you fear so much teach you a few lessons in manners swamp hag."

"Enough!" I bark, noticing how Morrigan's hands have taken on a malicious glow, "Alistair, she was giving me information that was useful so back off before I sew your mouth shut. And Morrigan," I swivel in the saddle to glare at her, "If I ever see you attempt to use your powers to harm any one in this party, I will execute you without a second thought. Am I understood?"

Heads now bowed, the duo mumbles their affirmations then hastily move to opposite ends of our line. An awkward silence permeates the air until Leliana begins strumming a well known song on her lute.

Nearly two hours pass by in such a manner before it is broken by a young woman sprinting up the road, "Please help us! Our wagons were attacked! This way, hurry!"

Alistair, ever the knight in shining armor, gives his steed a firm kick in the ribs and is barreling down the road before my brain has time to register the hysterical woman's words. The others give chase a heartbeat later, leaving me and the sinking feeling in my stomach at the rear of the charge.

As I draw closer, I notice that my companions have paused with weapons drawn before a blonde elven man. Upon seeing me though, all talking abruptly ceases and the man saunters over to me. "You are the Grey Warden known as Lex, yes?" he inquires in an accent that I recognize as Antivan, "My employers told me of your beauty, but I can see that they did you no justice."

"Who would be asking?" I ask in lieu of answering while subtly resting my cloak covered hands on the hilts of my daggers.

"My apologies," he sounds genuinely remorseful as he gives a florid bow, "I am Zevran Arainai, Zev to my friends, and it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance milady."

"And what could you possibly want with a Grey Warden?" I'm fairly sure that I know the answer, but morbid curiosity once again compels me to ask.

"It seems that you have upset some pretty powerful people, my beauteous Warden," his cinnamon tinted eyes flicker with something I can't comprehend, "Upset them enough that they felt obligated to contact my employers in an effort to ease their worry. You understand this, no?"

"You're here to kill me." It is not a question.

The elf bobs his head once, "Unfortunately so, I must admit. Before now, I would have been happy to oblige, but now that I see you, it is going to be such a waste killing a breathtaking creature such as yourself. Ti prego perdonami, nobile signora, ma la mia morte è l'unica altra scelta."

"Already forgiven, you're just doing your job," I answer in the common tongue, earning myself a startled look from the Antivan, and start to remove my cloak, "Shall we get this over with? I have an army to gather and a blight to end."

Zevran raises one hand and waves it forward, sending almost a dozen assassins at us. I think about his words as we spar, 'ma la mia morte è l'unica altra scelta', but my death is the only other choice. So he is a reluctant assassin? Maybe this could be used to our advantage, especially if he knows who hired his organization to dispose of me.

It is a grueling task, ridding ourselves of the would be killers, but in the end all have perished save one. Sten, being the practical soldier that he is, is preparing to deal the death blow when both Leliana and I jump in front of the Qunari.

"Sten, don't kill him yet!" I command, my hands gripping his massive forearms, "He might have information that I need."

"It is not truly anaan if you leave your enemies alive Warden," he argues but lowers the great sword from over his head, "But what you speak of has logic," then silently steps out of the way.

"Leliana, get that coil of rope we keep on the mule, I don't want to take any chances," I glance down at the unconscious man, "I have a feeling this could get interesting really fast otherwise."

Alistair, Wynne, and Sten search the bodies for anything useful while the bard and I bind the Antivan. Morrigan and Havoc scan the perimeter for any others that still might be laying in wait for us to let our guard down. When everyone is ready, Zevran is laid over the back of one of the horses, which I lead, and we continue on to what is going to be our campsite for at least the night.

By the time our tents are up, soft white flakes have begun to rain down upon us. Luckily the stone creates a natural barrier against the biting wind on three sides of the camp, and an added bonus is an outcropping of rock that we were able to place our shelters under. Firewood is quickly gathered and, once dinner is mentioned, Morrigan happily ignites the timber with a flick of her wrist.

I ask my mabari to stand guard over the Antivan while Wynne tends to his various cuts and bruises. I try not to annoy her as she works, but I need to know if he's going to live long enough to answer the questions I have bombarding my overworked brain.

"Oh mio," Zevran mutters as he emerges from the Fade, "I sincerely thought I was going to wake up dead...or not at all as it were."

I stroll over to his prone form and kneel down, "I have questions that need answering and you can't do that if you're dead."

He nods thoughtfully then attempts to move his bound arms, "A question first, if I may? Are you perhaps the creator of this lovely Shibari binding I find myself in?"

I glance down at the intricate knotting in confusion and shake my head, "No I'm not, I just tied your feet. She," I point at the bard over my shoulder, "Is the one who tied your arms."

"Amazing work, it reminds me of a girl I once knew," he lets out a wistful sigh before lifting his head and grinning impishly, "So what can I do for you or, more importantly, to you my lady?"

"Who sent you to kill me?"

"I thought that might be the first one. Well, the abridged version seems to be the more prudent path here," a light chuckle rumbles out his his chest as I roll my eyes at him, "I was sent by the Crows who were contracted by an uppity noble type who wished to see you expire."

"Okay, so who hired the Crows and how much were you paid to deal with me?"

"Me? I was paid nothing but the normal stipend for an assassination," he confesses with a slight frown gracing his angular features, "My employers, on the other hand, were paid quite handsomely in return for ensuring your demise. Too bad I cannot go back and enjoy it a little now. And to think, I was going to buy myself the most beautiful pair of boots as a reward for a job well done when I got home."

"Why can't you go back?" Leliana chimes in as she hands me a mug of piping hot tea.

"Because the Crows have a reputation to uphold and I did not make the grade, so to speak. Your oh so ravishing Warden here is still breathing hence I am unable to return to my beautiful city," Zevran explains to her before turning back to me, "If you want anything more detailed, you need to find the man who hired us, Loghain I believe his name was."

"Why are you telling us this? Do you honestly think we'll believe you?" Alistair challenges, his eyes glowing red in the fire light.

"I was paid for my skills as an assassin, not my silence bel ragazzo," the elf counters, openly appraising the Templar's now armor free physique, "Besides, telling the truth may convince you to let me continue living a while longer and since I'm partial to that, I found no reason not to be honest."

Something tells me that he is telling the truth, "If I untie you, are you going to do something stupid like try to kill me again?"

"Not a chance signora, I've already learned my lesson in that area." he immediately replies amidst the incredulous glares pointed at him.

"Prove it," my fellow Warden snarls, though out of anger or jealously over the Antivan's flirtatious nature, I'm not sure.

"I, Zevran Arainai, do hereby pledge my life, my blades, and my other various considerable talents, to you, most resplendent Lex of the Grey Wardens, to do with as you see fit until there is no longer a breath in my body," the assassin announces, his voice ringing through the evening air.

I know from my sister-in-law that Antivans do not make oaths lightly nor do they ever break them willingly so to have this rogue proclaim his allegiance is nothing short of magically binding himself to me.

"Zevran Arainai, I humbly accept your oath. Leli, cut him loose."

**translation time!**

**I used Italian for Zevran because it is such a beautiful language and it's rhythm matches the way Zev speaks.**

**Ti prego perdonami, nobile signora, ma la mia morte è l'unica altra scelta - Please forgive me, noble lady, but my death is the only other choice**

**bel ragazzo-beautiful boy**

**anaan-Qunari word for victory**

**Shibari—common Western name for Japanese rope bondage**


	12. Chapter 12

**Blind cat-Check**

**Two hellions-Check**

**Closet full of typo gremlins-Check**

**Copyright ownership? Damn, I knew I was forgetting something...**

The towers of Redcliffe castle can be seen from the route we are taking when Alistair interrupts everyone's conversations to stop for lunch. I try to ask him if something is wrong after tethering the horses, but he gives me a grim look and pulls me a ways away from our cluster of companions.

I allow him to drag me about fifty yards before digging my heels into the clay infused dirt, "That's enough with the pushing me around Alistair, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"We need to talk," the warrior grumbles, his gaze firmly fixed on something over my shoulder, "It's something I should have told you a long time ago but I never-I couldn't work it out, how to say it to you I mean."

"Let me guess, you're an idiot," I can't help but snap after dealing with his mood swings the past few days.

"Yep, that's it. I stopped to tell you that I am an idiot. Thank the Maker you realized that, now I can stop worrying. By the way, you are so cute when you're being sarcastic," he lets out a dark chuckle before taking my hand and pressing a kiss into the palm, "I erm, remember how I told you that I was raised by Arl Eamon before his new wife got jealous and had me sent away to the Chantry?"

"Yes, I remember quite vividly," I chortle, recalling the particular words he used to describe the Arl's bride, "Is this where you're going to tell me that you're Eamon's son or something?"

"Or something," he muses before aiming his chocolate and mint swirled orbs at me, "My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe and my father had a dalliance with her when he came to visit his brother-in-law. Nine months later, cue the celestial chorus and minstrels, little Alistair was born as his mother took her last breath."

"I'm sorry Ali," I tell him genuinely, not knowing what else I should say.

"Okay here's the thing. I'm a bastard, and before you start with the jokes, I mean the kind royalty has, that kings have," he gushes, looking more nervous with every word, "King Maric was my father."

I stretch up onto my tip toes and kiss him with all that I have before leaning back and patting his cheek, "I know, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this."

"You knew?" he yowls, shrinking from my touch, "You knew and let me blabber on like some feeble brained moron? Heeyyy...how did you know?"

"Hi, I'm the bastard son of a king, want to have dinner with me?" I repeat the words I'd heard what seems like a lifetime ago.

The Templars face turns a few different shades of red, some of which I don't think there are names for, "You heard that?"

"Mm-hmm," I hum, enjoying this too much to let him off the hook so easily, "If I remember correctly, you also said that facing hordes of darkspawn was easier than trying to court me. Now that you've had a bit of practice at doing both, do you still believe that?"

Under my amused gaze, he buries his face in his hands, "I can't believe you heard that Lex. Did you also hear how he basically ordered me to keep mum about it until after the battle?"

"Yes I did, that's why I kept quiet as well," I qualify as I try to pry his hands away from his face, "But not a few minutes later, when he came in to check on me, he asked me to take care of you and I could make good on my promise of making his life a living hell, as long as I kept making you smile."

"So..are you trying to tell me that it's not a big deal for you?"

I cup his cheek affectionately, "Ali, I am an exiled noble, the last of my line, from a family who has had all titles and lands stripped from her because Rendon Howe and Loghain Mac Tir said we were traitors. To make things better, or worse, depending on your view, I was proclaimed dead after both the attack on my house and what happened at Ostagar. You could have told me that you were born to a circus performer and a cross dressing prostitute for all I care who your parentage stems from."

"I usually tell people that I was raised by dogs," he smirks, placing his hand over mine and leaning down to lightly brush his lips against my own, "It really doesn't bother you that I'm the bastard son of a king and quite possibly the heir to the throne?"

"Well, maybe the thought of doing something less than virtuous with said royal bastard is a bit thrilling," I confess with my own ornery smirk plastered on my face.

"Hhmm, I think I might have found something good in this after all," he snickers and kisses me again.

"So...were does that leave me then?" I prod as we turn to start back to the group, our hands still linked.

"The reason any of this is bearable," the man at my side confesses without blushing for once, "But now that we have all the warm and fuzzy stuff over with, we can get back to the ritual dismember—wait, it's not Tuesday is it?"

"I think so, why?"

He taps his chin thoughtfully for a moment, "Because on Tuesdays we only steal and ravish exiled nobles, have any handy?"

"I might be able to think of one or two you can use," I nudge him with my shoulder and pull him forward.

"My dear Wardens, I'm glad to see that you've resolved your little lover's spat," Zevran greets as we rejoin our companions, "I was beginning to feel a little strange with all of the eyes pointed at me. I felt like I should be doing tricks or dancing to the bard's music, not that I mind either of these, but would there be any objections if I did them naked? It's what I'm used to."

"It would serve you well to keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself," my overprotective warrior snarls while placing himself in between the elf and I, "The only reason you continue to have the ability to make those comments is because Lex sees something good in you. I think she's a bit naive for it, but I respect her wishes as long as you behave yourself Crow."

"Naive or no, I think that the lady Warden is perfectly capable of telling me herself if she is offended by my words, no?" Zevran blatantly winks at me, then turns on his heel and struts away.

"I really don't like him Lex."

"Actually, he reminds me of my brother in a lot of ways," I glumly confess as I follow him over to a fallen tree and take a seat next to him, "Fergus was always saying lewd things to get a rise out of our parents."

"The knife ear should know how to treat a lady," Alistair argues...wrong thing to say to me though.

I jump to my feet and spin around to face him, "Andraste's knickers Alistair, I would have thought that you, of all people, knew better than to throw around such prejudicial words like knife ear. I should have known better though, considering the way you treat Morrigan because she refuses to become a glorified lapdog to the Chantry. I am so-so disgusted with you that I can't even find the words!"

He calls after me as I tromp into the wooded area we've stopped by, but I disregard his pleas as more judgmental garbage and continue on my way. I march onward until I come across a semi flat rock. There, I crawl up its side and flop down in less than a lady like fashion.

"Stupid...hypocritical...racist...asshole!" I wail towards the sky, still incensed that the man I'm quickly falling for having such radically different views as the ones I was raised with.

In my family it didn't matter what you were, it mattered what kind of person you were. My parents had clashed with Nan more than once with how she treated the elves employed in our manor, they were so adamant about people of all races being treated equally.

"Dirty words falling from such decadent lips, I think I like it," the elf in question comments as he clamors over the edge of the rock and seats himself at my side. In reality, I should be afraid of such unchaperoned proximity with the assassin, but his oath is still fresh in my mind so I feel nothing but calm acceptance of his presence.

"What do you need Zevran?" I pinch the bridge of my nose in hopes of willing away the headache that has begun to invade my head.

"I wanted to thank you. Not many humans are so, what is the word? Ah yes, gracious, when it comes to other races," he qualifies from under the cowl of his black cloak, "Do I truly remind you of your brother?"

"Yes you do," I stare down at my hands as I pick up a dead leaf and shred it, "Fergus was a natural flirt as well and had a tendency to say the most perverted things to people because he thought it was funny."

One pale eyebrow raises in curiosity, "You said was, does that mean..."

I nod once, "Most likely. He was sent into the Korcari Wilds with five others to scout out the darkspawn army just before the battle at Ostagar...he never returned..."

"Then I shall make a second promise to you dearest Alexa," in the far edge of my vision, I see him put one fine boned hand over his heart, "From this moment forward, I shall be the best substitute for your brother that I possibly can be."

"Thank you Zevran," I tell him truthfully and, on a whim, lay my head on his shoulder, "I need something to distract me Zev, tell me about your beloved Antiva."

"As long as you don't scold me about some lurid and less than innocent dreams I may have from time to time about my little sister," he quips and launches into the first of many tales about his life in his far off country.

"Lex, Zevran, where are you? We're getting ready to head down into the village!" Leliana's Orlesian lilt intrudes upon the Crow's exciting tale about his involvement in the assassination of a prince.

The barest hint of a smile graces Zevrans' lips at the sound of her voice. I refuse to let an opportunity to tease him pass by. "You like her, don't you?"

He shrugs noncommittally but his grin broadens, "What can I say? She's perfect for a monster such as myself and is nearly as gorgeous as my little sister."

"Then you might want to get it in her head now that there is nothing going on between us," I warn as he lithely stands and pulls me up after him, "I've noticed that she can get a bit...possessive about things on occasion."

Zevran extends a hand and helps me down from the rock, "And what will you tell your fellow Warden then? He bears those same qualities my dear."

My indignation with the Templar surges to the surface, eclipsing my more amorous emotions, and I grunt, "He can go fuck a nug for all I care right now. I've washed my hands of him until he learns to treat people better."

My war hound greets our quartet on the walk back, running happy circles around us and fetching the stick we take turns throwing for him as we go. When we emerge from the treeline, I can feel Alistair's morose hazel orbs on me, yet I refrain from sparing a single glance in his direction. I know that if I did, I'd forgive him anything, and I refuse to let myself be compromised like that no matter how much he means to me.

Predictably, he tries to approach me as we mount our horses, but I manage to avoid him by placing my horse between Morrigan and Sten.

"Trouble in paradise?" Morrigan questions after Alistair tries and fails for the fourth time to get my attention.

"He's a judgmental bigot and I don't have the time to deal with his close-mindedness," I answer coolly but loud enough for my words to easily be heard by the warrior, "Maybe if he can prove to me that he isn't the racist pig that I encountered today, I may give him the chance to speak to me. If not...I'm better off without his holier than thou opinions of people that I've come to call my friends."

"Is that a man standing on the bridge?" Leliana asks, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the afternoon sun, "Oh dear, it is!"

"Help!" I hear on the wind, carried from the figure on the bridge.

"Great, here we go again," I deadpan, reaching back to draw my blades.

**Two chapters in one day? Yep, so you'd better be thanking the family for fending for themselves tonight so I could get this finished.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I know the last chapter was a bit of a pain, but I always had trouble dealing with Alistair's prejudices in the game.**

**I still own nothing.**

If someone had told me before the battle at Redcliffe that the scariest thing you can encounter is a reanimated corpse, I would have laughed at them and proceeded to describe the various abominations I'd seen and killed in the Circle tower.

And I also would have been wrong.

The undead I'd disposed of in the Fade have nothing on the overwhelming stench of a real rotting corpse, dripping putrid ichor everywhere as it tries to hack you into little bits. As a matter of fact, the only thing that can be considered to even come close is the odor emanating from an undead set ablaze while it attacks you.

Before the battle, I probably shouldn't have ordered Wynne, Leliana, Zevran and Havoc ahead to find a way into the Arl's castle, but those of us that remained behind somehow found a way to minimize the loss of life during the night.

Of course, maneuvering ourselves into such a position was an adventure unto itself.

First there was the matter of finding the wayward brother of young Kaitlin, whom we'd met in the Chantry while looking for volunteers. I happened to find a unique green bladed sword during the search, but it's discovery was marred by Sten snarling unhappily until I emptied the contents of our money pouch into the girl's hand as payment for it.

Secondly, we had to hunt down the dwarven mercenary Dwyn and convince him and his band of warriors to fight alongside the townspeople. While looking for his home, we stumbled upon nearly a dozen barrels of lamp oil that could be used at the bottle neck the creatures poured through every night.

Thinking our work done, we'd taken a short respite in the lone tavern still open in the village. Stupid mistake. There ended up being an elven spy who knew a little about Eamon's sickness, but not enough for us to determine what afflicted the man. With Sten's unabashed approval, I sent the elf to redeem his actions by standing with the home guard.

Then there was the tiff between Lloyd, the tavern's owner, and the militia that he'd been overcharging for drinks. I had Sten lift the man up by his arms and slowly begin to pull them off until he agreed to cease being such a jackass to the men and women risking their lives for his crappy establishment. Alistair was thrilled when Lloyd blurted out that militia would drink for free from that moment on, in way of honoring their sacrifice.

Too bad the brightening in Alistair's mood was immediately eclipsed when I became the stunned but not unwilling reciprocator of a very pleasant kiss from the lovely waitress Bella after a second little confrontation with Lloyd over how he treated his employees. I wasn't sure if he was going to rip her off of me in a fit of jealousy or have a heart attack at seeing two females engage in something so intimate.

Of course, who could forget the drunk as a dwarf Owen, the blacksmith who reeked like a brewery and refused to aid his fellow villagers in any way unless I gave my oath as a Warden to find and return his daughter to him safely.

My personal favorite of all these redundant tasks though has to be when I got to threaten the self serving, arrogant Revered Mother when she refused to bless a handful of amulets for the soldiers because we couldn't afford to pay the tithe. Alistair nearly had kittens where he stood when I placed the tip of my newly acquired sword to her throat, but abruptly stalled his arguments when I reminded him of how far his own faith has carried him and that those soldiers who were preparing to die for their homes deserved the same comfort.

Now, with the sun rising and the undead stilled for the last time, my companions stand before Bann Teagan. We are a little worse for wear, but glad nonetheless because the siege that had been devastating these people was finally over. Teagan, concluding his confession of a secret passage leading to the castle that is hidden under the windmill, is interrupted by a distraught woman running up and throwing herself into the man's arms.

"Oh Teagan, thank the Maker I found you!" she wails, "You have to come to the castle posthaste!"

"Isolde? Wha—how ever did you get away from the castle?" he demands, looking a bit too comfortable with his arms wrapped around her.

"I slipped out, alone, to find you," she prattles on, seemingly oblivious to our presence, "You have to come with me quickly Teagan, it's the only way I can save him."

"If this concerns the Arl, maybe we should come along as well," I offer, thinking about the extra salves and poultices Morrigan and Wynne had been making since we learned of Eamon's ailment.

"Who is this woman that speaks out of turn?" Isolde snaps, glaring daggers at me.

"I am Alexa Rose of the Grey Wardens," I respond in a falsely calming tone, "My companions and I have come seeking the aid of Arl Eamon. There are those that travel with me that may be able to assist your husband."

"The Grey Wardens left King Maric to die," she sniffs, clutching Teagan's arm ever tighter, "You are despots and deserters, nothing but traitors to the crown."

"Loghain betrayed the king, not the Wardens," Alistair challenges heatedly, his stance turning defensive, "Besides, Isolde, if we can help Eamon, why would you care what we may or may not be?"

I apathetically watch the color bleed from the Arlessa's face as the young man's identity dawn's on her. "Alistair?" she croaks almost laughably, "Is that really you?"

He bobs his blonde head in acknowledgment, "It is. I know that I'm not all that welcome in your home lady, but we need the Arl's help if Ferelden is to stand any chance of surviving this Blight."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," she dismisses my companion outright and resumes tugging on her brother-in-law's sleeve, "We have to go now before it is too late!"

"Hold on a sodding minute," I snag Teagan's free arm and hold him fast, "We're going with you. If something else is going on up there, you're going to need our help."

"No, you can't!" the woman shrieks, yanking him from my grasp in her panic.

"Tis no need to be a bitch about it," Morrigan snipes from behind me, "We've already saved your village for you and the Warden is now offering her aid in healing your husband, I think gratitude is the correct emotion you should be emulating here, not disdain."

"You slander me peasant, recant your words this instant!" Isolde's howl reaches an ear splitting pitch, "Warden, make her take it back or I'll have her executed!"

I shake my head in blatant refusal, "I shan't make her take anything back that isn't true and seeing your villagers all think her a hero, have fun finding one willing to take her head."

"How dare you, you impertinent wretch!" she raises her hand to strike, but Teagan manages to catch it before she breaks anything on my armor.

"I will take her ahead," he states as he slides a ring off of his right hand and pushes it into my own, "Take this, it will unlock the door concealing the passage to the keep. Maker willing, I will meet you and your companions there."

"I do not like this plan, something feels wrong," Sten comments, his tree trunk sized arms folding over his breastplate.

"It seems we have little choice but to follow his lead," I counter, keeping a wary eye on the duo as they fade over the hill, "Until we understand the situation a little better, we go ahead with Teagan's plan. I don't want to take any more risks than is necessary."

"Parshaara," he grunts and slumps towards where the horses are waiting, "Let us be done with this menial task so we can return to dealing with the darkspawn."

"I must say that the giant has a point," Morrigan surmises as we shoulder our packs and follow the displaced soldier, "The scent of betrayal lays thick in that woman's wake."

"Are you sure you aren't sme..."Alistair starts to say but the words die in his throat as I huff in disappointment and quicken my pace to catch up with the Qunari.

"Lex, I didn't mean—it just slipped out!" the warrior pleas, shadowing my movement but smart enough to not try and touch me, "I've already apologized to the elf and to her, I swear. It's a start, isn't it? Dammit Lex, would you stop and listen to me?"

"Is that a royal command your highness?" I swivel around and glare at him. When he takes a step back, shaking his head negatively, I swing up onto my steed's back, "I will stop and listen when you've shown me that you have actively made an effort to be something other than an ignorant bastard with no care for how he tosses around insults. For now, stop complaining like a spoiled brat and focus on the task at hand. If you can't do that then you can stay here in the village until we can decipher what is going on at the castle and send someone to retrieve you. What shall it be Templar?"

His head drops in defeat, "Whatever my lady wishes."

I shift my gaze to his horse and he silently mounts the creature, looking more broken that he'd been after the events at Ostagar. Part of me yearns to reach out and alleviate his pain, but flashes of his callous treatment of our companions drowns it out.

As we draw closer to our intended destination, the golden eyed apostate sidles her mount closer to mine. "Have you ever noticed how most humans judge anothers intelligence based off of how often they are agreed with?"

I recount the verbal battle I had with Dwyn the day before, "It's not just humans who possess that trait Morrigan."

"True, but tis it not also a common occurrence to be fond of someone because of their many flaws instead of in spite of them?"

Hearing the witch, of all people, speak favorably of any emotional attachment that is not for personal gain incites me to cast a glance upward and wonder when the lightning strike will come. "I had to have misheard you because I seriously think I just heard you say something nice about people caring for one another and there wasn't a condescending word to be found."

"Just because I think it is sheer lunacy and unnecessary to fabricate those kind of attachments does not prevent them from occurring around me," she clarifies with an annoyed roll of her eyes, "I was merely making an observation."

"To what end?" I swear this woman gets more confusing every time she opens her mouth, "It has nothing to do with finding out what's currently wrong with the Arl and you are not one for idle banter."

"If I'm being honest, it is mostly because I tire of the sickening aura of melancholy and self loathing the Templar has wrapped himself in since your falling out," the wild woman grudgingly admits, "It makes him look more soft in the head than normal and I fear it will hinder your pursuit of raising your army."

"Um Morrigan, you do realize that some of the reason I am so angry with Alistair is because of the way he has treated you," I ignore his sharp intake of breath as I vent to the ebony haired mage, "I will not and cannot condone how he looks down his nose at anything his precious Chantry might disapprove of."

"Mayhap, but if I can, at the very least, get you to hear him out, maybe the two of you will stop moping around like the Qunari stole your last cookie when you think no one is looking. Besides, if you do this, the bumbling boob will be indebted to me," she leans over and lowers her tone to a husky whisper, "And that is something I can't wait to take full advantage of. Besides, tis not only him I do this for. We are all at our wits end already, trying to deal with the both of you."

I roll it around in my head for a minute or so when it occurs to me that this has to be Morrigan's way of repairing the damage wrought back in Lake Calenhad. Odd, I was sure she had returned to loathing me after the reaction to my gift. Well, at least this would smooth things over a bit and make it easier to travel together.

"Fine, I'll do it. I will will listen to what he has to say," I eventually concede while pointedly ignoring the smile that takes over my fellow Warden's chiseled features, "But not until the situation with the Arl is resolved. That's what is most important right now."

"Tis all I ask," the mage solemnly replies and as she shifts her penetrating gaze towards Alistair, I almost feel sorry for him and what she is no doubt planning to put him through in return for her interference on his behalf.

Almost.

**Yeah, it caught me by surprise too when our favorite apostate of all people stood up for Ali.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the delay, you know how life gets in the way.**

**Nope, still don't own.**

"You can't be serious Lex!" Alistair keens the all too familiar protest after I unlock the cell door and allow the blood mage to step out, "He poisoned the Arl!"

"I don't give a damn what he did right now, we need help finding out what evil has overtaken the estate and he is more than willing to lend a hand," I retort, all too aware of the wetness trickling from the reopened wound on my side, "And I thought that you were going to follow my orders without questioning every other word that comes out of my mouth? That is, unless you are finally taking charge?"

He stops short and his hazel orbs drop to the dingy stone floor, "I—Lex, you have to understand I'm in an impossible position here..."

I lift a hand to silence him, "No, you aren't Alistair. You are a Grey Warden first and foremost and must do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our world. Your personal attachments and prejudices have no bearing here. Jowan can be useful to us, thus he is released from his cell."

"You're right, as usual," he sighs and shoulders his shield, "I'm sorry I doubted your motives milady."

"I'm glad you're finally starting to see things my way Ali. Shall we continue storming the castle then?"

After emerging from the cellar and ridding ourselves of another wave of rotting skeletons, Sten and Alistair open the main gate to allow Ser Perth, his men, and our missing companions in.

"This manor is guarded by some magical means mia cara sorella," Zevran declares as our two parties come together, "There is something most foul afoot here."

"Well, it isn't my feet," Alistair protests, checking the soles of his boots to be sure, "I cleaned them off not ten minutes ago!"

Morrigan gives me a look laden with a new batch of insults for the young man and I shake my head to dissuade her before glancing to my fellow Warden, "No, Zev means something is terribly wrong Alistair. They were unable to get inside because something is keeping a barrier around it."

"But the front door appears to be unguarded by either mundane or mystical means," Sten points out, his hand laying on the wood and steel bound doors.

"Yyeess, let's use the front door, no one would ever suspect that," the almost Templar retaliates, prying his leer from the elven assassin and training it on me, "So what's the plan then? Have Sten rip the doors from their hinges whilst the rest of us go running in screaming with weapons drawn?"

"That's one idea," I confess, avoiding the outraged glares from Ser Perth and his contingent of warriors, "Or we could just ghost in and see what's going on."

"I prefer the other plan," the Qunari interjects from his place by the doors.

"You would," I snicker despite the dire situation we find ourselves in, "But why don't we call that Plan B for now? If sneaking in quietly doesn't work, I'll happily let you slaughter the masses to your heart's content. Sound fair?"

"You are not as callow as I once thought kadan," the hulking man answers with a rare hint of approval in his voice.

"Aw shucks, I love you too Sten," I quip then turn to the others, "Ser Perth, you and your men will follow me, Alistair, Sten, and Zevran. The rest will shadow you in case we need reinforcements, but I want all of you wait for my signal before revealing yourselves. Showing our numbers too soon might exacerbate the problem, whatever it is."

More of our dwindling supply of healing kits are passed around to everyone, then Alistair and Sten open the heavy doors just wide enough to allow us entrance, our blades at the ready.

Lifeless bodies of countless Redcliffe soldiers greet us, their blank gazes silently accusing. I determinedly step over the corpses and check the nearest door, which turns out to be locked. "Search them for any keys they might have on their person, otherwise it's going to take a long time to reach the Arl."

We find a handful of keys and thank Andraste, one of them unlocks the door Ser Perth indicates as the main route to the audience hall. As we slink down the corridor, the knight explains that all other areas of the keep can be accessed from the central hall we are moving towards. We encounter more of those dreadful reanimated monstrosities as we make our way through, so many in fact that I end up sending Sten, Havoc, Leliana, and Morrigan on an alternate route to rid the building of its unnatural inhabitants.

Along the way, we happen upon the Arl's personal study and search for any clues that could lead us to what has happened. When we find nothing of consequence, we move on to the next part of the castle, but not before I stealthily pocket a worn silver amulet I'd discovered inside a cubby hidden in one of the desk drawers. I would have left it be if not for a story Alistair told me of a similar looking amulet his mother once wore that he threw at Eamon in a fit of rage when the elder man came to visit him in the Chantry once.

Outside of the main hall, we can hear a bout of childish laughter echo through the space.

"Connor perhaps?" I whisper to Alistair who shrugs his armor plated shoulders in response. I signal back to Ser Perth for his group to wait after I pick the lock and ease the door open an inch or so to peek inside.

From my current position, I can see the room is less than half filled with a motley ensemble of men and women, their faces twisted into terrified grins and their eyes alight with barely contained horror. I gesture to Zevran and we slip into the room, careful to stay hidden amongst the other occupants meandering about. It takes a couple of minutes to navigate myself into a better position in the hall, but I finally catch sight of what they are all watching. Before the dais on which Isolde and a young boy are standing, is Bann Teagan. He is in the middle of doing an acrobatic routine his broad frame is ill equipped to execute while belting out a tune reminiscent of the traveling performers that used to frequent Highever in the spring and fall.

I have to latch onto an enraged Alistair when he spots the other man traipsing around like a buffoon. "What sorcery is this?" He demands of Wynne, who shakes her head in confusion, "I know not Alistair."

"I said I wanted you to dance Uncle!" the boy who could only be Connor unexpectedly barks out, his voice distorted as if someone else were speaking the same words as he, "That isn't dancing, that's tripping around blindly! Am I going to have to punish another one to get you to listen to me?"

"Connor please," His mother simpers from the side of the platform, her earlier arrogance long forgotten.

"What is wrong with Ban Teagan?" Leliana simpers from her place behind a cluster of weeping servants.

I shake my head slowly and cast a deliberate look towards the boy on the platform ordering everyone about, "I'm more worried about what's wrong with Connor, something isn't right there."

We push our way back out of the room and the knights look like they are going to pass out in fear after we explain the scene we'd witnessed.

"It sounds like the lad is possessed," Wynne declares, rising from her seat, "I would need to speak with Irving to be certain though."

"That means another trip to the Circle tower, "Zevran can barely contain a shudder as he remembers the horrors I'd described to him.

"Do you thing we have the time for yet another meaningless side trip?" Sten grunts impatiently, "The darkspawn should still be our priority, not the troubles of some useless noble."

"Sten, we've been over this a hundred times," I sigh and drop into the chair Wynne had just vacated, "If we are to have any hope of building and leading a cohesive army against the archdemon, we need Arl Eamon's guidance. Now, if the Arl and his people are being overrun by demons, how else do you figure we'll get his help if we don't deal with them first?"

"Simple Warden," the glowering giant responds, "Kill anyone who appears to be under the influence of unnatural forces then deliver your treaty to the next person in charge."

"You're not honestly going to consider this barbarian's proposal, are you?" Ser Perth bails, gaping at the Qunari warrior who is looking a tad smug.

"I'd probably have a simpler time with this if I was," I groan and drop my head into my hands, "What do I do..."

"We split up," my fellow Warden jumps to his feet and earns himself a handful of perplexed looks, "I will stay here with everyone and keep things contained. Lex, you and Wynne take the boat back to the tower. Talk to the First Enchanter and drag back whoever you deem capable of aiding us."

"But what if you run into trouble while we're gone? I'll have our most talented healer with me." I can't deny that he's offered a sound plan, but am unable to push away the trepidation I feel at leaving my friends in such an unstable situation.

"Trouble? Ha! Just wait until they get a load of me and my hair, then they'll learn what real trouble is," he jokes, then grows serious as he reaches down and takes my hand, "If things become to hairy for us to deal with on our own, we'll retreat back to the village and send Morrigan to you with the news. I promise I won't let any harm come to our companions in your absence Lex." Then, in one fluid motion, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. "For luck," he explains when he draws back.

I push him away, but vainly fight the impish grin threatening to take over. "For luck then. Use it well Alistair, because if you or anyone else dies, you'll have to rely on your own from here on out."

"May the Maker have mercy on our black little souls then," Zevran comments before deciding that it isn't enough. He snags Leliana around the waist, bends her back, and attacks her lips enthusiastically. When he finally releases her, amidst muffled snickers and a couple of appreciative whistles, he takes her hand and feathers it with apologetic kisses , "Like the Warden said, il mio amore, for luck."

Still swooning from his attentions, the ginger haired bard blinks at him dumbly a few times before stammering, "B-but you're st-st-taying here, aren't you?"

"It still couldn't hurt to try and garner all the favor we can, no?" the assassin shoots me a knowing wink, "Besides, I must confess that seeing the warrior assault our ravishing leader in such a manner incited a bit of jealousy in me, as I was not the one to do the assaulting."

I disengage myself from Alistair's vice like grip and hug the elf, "I love you too Zev, but I think you ought to warn Leli next time you plan on using her in such a manner. I can't tell if she's going to be faint or if she is going to throw you over her shoulder, carry you away, and lock you in a room with a bed."

"Now that is an interesting thought to consider bello," he guffaws and makes a show of swatting my bottom as I make my way over to the senior enchanter.

Havoc shows his displeasure at being left behind again by licking my hand and emitting a plaintive whine. I drop to my knees beside the morose beast and hug him, "I'm sorry bud, but we're going to be taking a boat this time and you know what happens when you ride on a boat with a full stomach. How about I bring you back a nice juicy ox bone to make it up to you?" The mabari thanks me by licking the entire undamaged side of my face before tucking his bulbous head under my chin. Knowing his worry, I scratch behind his ears, "I promise that I will be back as soon as I can and, Maker willing, I'll be bringing help with me."

The Orlesian, having recovered from the Antivan's energetic kiss, pads over, "It sounds like the boy is demanding dinner and the party is breaking up."

"Perhaps it would be prudent if we slipped out now then," Wynne advises and glides towards our hidden exit.

"Lex, I'll keep an eye on Havoc...and the rest," Alistair vows earnestly right as I step into the doorway, "Just be careful please...for me."

His watery eyes are so full of emotion that the joke that had sprang to mind withers and all I can do is nod, "You too Ali, since we still need to have that talk."

His lips curl into a hopeful smile and I slink out into the fading light, praying with my whole heart that my friends will still be alive when we return.

Six days later, I have to admit that the Maker himself must be smiling down at our mad quest because although the wind deafens with its shrieks as it tears at our clothes and the malignant clouds threaten multitudes of chaos, Wynne and I are not only escorting the First Enchanter himself through Redcliffe, we also have a contingent of Orlesian mages who specialize in the extraction of demonic entities. Of course I'd complained about their absence a few weeks earlier when we needed help cleaning out the tower, but they confessed at being delayed at the border by some of Loghain's watchdogs.

As we reach the bridge, I signal for the procession to halt and pad over to a seemingly empty crevice in the battlements. "How goes things in the castle mio fratello? Is everyone alright?"

"Who in Andraste's sword are you talking to woman?" one of the Templars growls, his hand on his blade.

"That would be me. Idiota," a familiar accented voice announces as the elven assassin materializes from the shadows, "and to answer the esteemed lady Warden's questions, things are grim mia bel, but our compatriots still live."

"What's happened now?" Irving wheezes, leaning heavily on another mage's arm.

"There is not doubt now that the bambino is afflicted by a nefarious spirit, I'm afraid to say. We've managed to contain the creature thus far, but unfortunately the site of it's entrapment is the ailing nobleman's bed chambers."

"Eamon still lives, I hope?" I prod while preparing for the worst.

"As far as we can tell he does, despite his proximity to the demonio," Zevran admits, crossing his arms and legs to lean against the wall, "There has been an unforeseen development though, I should warn you. We came across a curious thing in the dungeons while searching for a secret way to the aged Arl's rooms."

"Curious as in I think he's cute, I wonder how he kisses kind of curious? Or curious like I wonder how something with two heads decides which brain is in charge of what function kind of curious?" What else could have gone wrong, it's only been six days! Oh wait, look who got left behind to keep things in check. We're lucky that the sodding castle is still standing.

"More like why did we find the blood mage, who was brought by Isolde in secret to teach Connor how to control his magic and ended up being the very person whom is responsible for the Arl's current condition, still slinking around the premises kind of curious," he qualifies with a wry grin.

"Oh hell. Alistair's already gone and killed him before anyone could get answers, hasn't he?" Wynne inquires, shocking everyone with her less than proper language.

"Why would Jowan still be here? I thought he'd be leagues away since he disappeared so quickly after I released him," I muse aloud, still wondering if sparing the man's life was the right thing to do.

"I do not know why he chose to stay, but mage was still intact when I came to greet you nonna," he pushes off the wall and raises and arm for the elder mage to take, "But alas, every minute we delay taxes our overeager friend, so I suggest we move this to a more dry, if not more hospitable, locale, yes?"

The group murmurs their consent and quietly moves to follow Zevran, Wynne, and I into the keep.

**translations-**

**mia cara sorella—my dear sister**

**il mio amore-my love**

**bello-beautiful**

**mio fratello-my brother**

**idiota-idiot**

**mia bel-my beauty**

**bambino-child**

**demonio-demon**

**nonna-grandmother**


	15. Chapter 15

**Well, this is where this tale gets to earn its M rating. Just a warning, lemons ahead, so if you don't do smut, pass on this chapter. If you dig smut then welcome, the more the merrier! :-)**

**I still don't own anything copyrighted.**

"What was it like for you?" I ask Morrigan from my resting place in front of the hearth, my head laying against the ebony back of my war hound.

"Much like how you described your time in the Fade," the apostate confirms, her amber eyes never deviating from the words in her mother's journal, "Except that the she-demon who tried to ply me with false platitudes and promises of power and my answering her lies by blasting her to bits."

"There had to be more to the story," Leliana whines from the other sofa and nearly dislodges Zevran's head from her lap when she squirms in frustration.

"And why must there always be more for you humans?" our resident Qunari challenges while gracefully dispatching Wynne's knight with his rook, "If the witch says that there is nothing more to be told, then she has already said what there was to say. Vashedan!" the curse is for the silver haired mage as she traps his king and topples the figure.

"I was just hoping that she might have seen or heard something that could tell us why Arl Eamon isn't waking up yet," the bard defends, making the elf laying on her legs wince when her nails scrape his scalp.

"By the way Irving was sounding when I spoke to him earlier, it seems that aiding the Redcliffe knights in their search for Andraste's ashes may be our last chance of reviving him," Wynne suggests and looks to me for confirmation.

I nod my head at her and push my aching form into a sitting position, "She's right. Without Eamon to band everyone together, the treaties are less than worthless. If we have to help the knights in their quest to cure him, then that is what we will do."

"But where do we even start?" Alistair, who had been dozing in a reading chair not too far from me, questions incredulously, "It's not like any of us have stumbled upon random mythological urns lately, unless someone isn't telling us something?"

Disregarding his asinine inquiry, I pat his foot and press on, "What we have at our disposal are a gathering of amazing people from all over Thedas. What we can do is sit down and sift through the stories from where we're from, this way we can whittle things down a bit."

"Brother Genitivi," Zevran purrs, shifting his spice hued orbs in my direction, "Ser Perth mentioned a Brother Genitivi from Denerim who seems to have dedicated his entire existence to collecting any and all information concerning the Urn. Maybe we should drop by and say hello?"

"Go to Denerim? Have you gone mad or did you finally manage to poison yourself stupid?" the almost Templar bellows, now wide awake, "In case you haven't heard Zevran, Loghain has bounties out for any Warden that survived Ostagar, the Qunari is a known mass murderer, the Templars could easily sniff out the witch in any crowd and lastly, aren't the Crows looking for you? Who do we have left to send into the city? An Orlesian bard who hears voices, a half wild mabari, and an aging healer, all of whom are known to cavort with the aforementioned criminals. I'm sure they would get real far before Loghain corrals them and sends them off to Fort Draken."

"That is only one option, my overly dramatic friend," the Antivan thoughtfully scratches his jaw before his mouth splits into a mischievous grin, "Or we could go incognito. What say you, mia sorella?"

"Mio fratello, if I'm to be truthful, I think we're taking a big risk getting anywhere within five leagues of the capitol. Leli, do you think the Chantry would have any information on this priest's whereabouts or maybe be willing to send him a message?"

The woman's shoulders bob up and down, but her expression is doubtful, "I've already consulted with the Reverend Mother on what she knows about the Sacred Ashes. She didn't mention this Brother, but instructed me to confer with the knights who have taken up the quest. I'd planned on visiting them on the morrow since you told us that we would be staying here to recuperate for another day or two."

"Tis a good idea. Why don't you take Alistair with you when you go though. Maybe they will be a little friendlier with a former brother escorting you. And yes, I know Wynne and Morrigan will be stomping about the countryside, trying to replenish our herbal stores. I suggest the two of you take Sten along so he can keep an eye out and carry your sacks back. While you're out and about, talk to some of the villagers about this priest and where he might be hiding. Zev, Havoc, and I will see what we can scare up as well when we go out to buy everyone's winter gear. With all of us fishing for information, hopefully we'll get lucky enough to know what direction we're heading when we leave here."

"Luck you say? You ladies might be needing to pass around quite a few more of those delectable kisses then," Zevran remarks, his eyes twinkling impishly as Alistair tenses up at his words.

"Now that the Crow has once again shamelessly proven what a lecher he is, I was wondering if I could have a word with you in private Lex?" the Templar pleads while heaving his bulky form from it's resting place.

"Oh voi fortunati ragazza, don't do anything I wouldn't," the elf cackles as he reacquaints his head with Leliana's welcoming lap.

"Shut up fratello," I snarl and extend my arms out for the young man to lift me up from the floor.

He wordlessly obliges, then leads me from the modest common area. We pass the door to my room and enter his. I stand in confusion for a while when instead of talking, Alistair begins to pace the length of the chamber repeatedly while muttering unintelligibly. Ultimately, I end up situating myself at the foot of the bed and resolving to wait for as long as it takes for the warrior to gather his thoughts.

My exhaustion has begun to take over when he finally breaks the silence. "Lex, I—uh," his stammer is soft, accentuated by the rough hand running through his sun bleached locks. I wait for him to go on, but he only resumes wearing a hole in the stone beneath his feet.

I spend nearly an hour observing his manic display, fighting against leaden eyelids, when I reach my breaking point.

"Alright Ali, I'm going to take a stab at things and assume that this," I gesture towards him as he moves, "Is somehow connected to the events that have transpired over the last few days?"

Uh-oh, both hands have made their way into his hair now. "Yes—No? Well, some of it," he finally admits, never looking up from the floor.

"Hhmm. Well I think that things turned out fairly well, under the circumstances, don't you?" I refrain from saying more and chancing another explosive tirade.

"Yes, it did. All thanks to you," he pauses and twists around to peer at me, "You risked life and limb to get those mages here in time. You fought with Greagoir and anyone else you needed to procure aid even when you knew that it would have been easier to come back and just kill Connor. I don't know if I could have done the same, were I in your place."

"I wasn't about to murder an innocent child when there was another option, and you wouldn't have either," I elaborate, confused that this is what was the source of his distress, "I know that you and Isolde aren't the best of friends by a long shot, but Eamon means something to you and they mean something to him. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing to help them."

"That doesn't explain much," he counters, now looking as confused as I feel.

"It wasn't just to ensure Eamon's support that I did this," I grasp his hands and mime his favored action by pressing a kiss to each palm, "They mean something to you Ali, so they mean something to me. Just because I'm upset with you and some of the stupid things you've done, it has no bearing on how much I care for you."

"I have been such a fool, hurting the woman I love with my ignorance," my surprised gasp invokes a smirk from the Templar, "That's right, you heard me, I love you. I think I have from the evening Duncan carried you into camp and I caught a glimpse of that scarlet mane of yours for the first time. I don't expect you to feel the same-especially after I've been such an ass-but do-"

His speech is interrupted by me throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him like I've never kissed anyone before. "I love you Ali, say it again."

To my utter delight, he doesn't retreat at my brazen attitude, and instead moves us backward towards the bed. "I love you Alexa Rose. Stay with me tonight," he begs as he lowers me to the mattress and moves his form over me, "Stay with me every night. I can't bear to be without you any longer."

Without waiting for a reply, his lips trail down my jaw and nibble the soft flesh of my throat. Instinctively, I lift my head to grant him better access. "I thought you wanted to the time to be right? What about the perfect night you said you dreamed of?" His warm hands tenderly graze my sides, careful not to agitate my wounds, and I absently note that we've both somehow lost our tunics already.

Alistair nips at my collarbone, coaxing a torrent of sinful sensations to jolt through me. "I was a fool to believe that being with you would be less than perfect. This cannot be constructed like a suit of armor, regulated and rationed out like food. The perfect time is now because we make it so," there is a fluttering of air and fabric which leaves my legs vulnerable to his reverent touch.

"Alistair, you don't have to do this for me," I hasten to say despite the violent protesting from within, "I would wait until the end of forever if that is what it took for you to be ready. I want you to be sure of this-of us."

He presses his impressive arousal against my center, causing a breathy moan to escape. "I want this, I want you, and I want it tonight. I want to make love to the most beautiful woman in Thedas." He draws back and waits for me to be able to focus before adding, "Show me how to love you Lex."

Inspired, I slide my hands down his chiseled torso and palm the bulge straining against his breeches. "Pants. Off. Now. Don't make me wait Ali."

"Your desire is my command," he hums and quickly relieves both of us of our remaining garments before laying at my side. "Maker's breath, you are beautiful," he rests one hand on my chest, over my wildly pounding heart, "I love you."

"As I love you," I declare while taking his hand and guiding it to where my need is greatest, "Now relax and let me show you how much."

When the thickened tips of his fingers brush against my throbbing nub, I whimper in sheer joy to have someone other than myself performing this intimate act. My hand still over his, I teach him the motions that invoke the most pleasure before allowing him to take control so I can focus on his pleasure.

Alistair's breathing is already ragged from his excitement, so I am gentle when I grasp his now twitching member and begin to pump it. "Love, I won't la-" he tries to argue, but I lay a finger against his lips, "I know my love, but if we get the first one out of the way now, you will last longer later, I swear."

He groans his consent and I resume my manipulation of his arousal. Not to be outdone, the young man props himself up on an elbow before dipping one, then two fingers into my sodden depths. I almost laugh at his satisfied smirk when the intrusion causes me to buck against him, but am too busy moaning in pleasure.

Together we move, our joined sounds echoing through the room, until his movements become disjointed and his panting grows shallow. I can tell that he is hurdling towards the pinnacle at lightning speed, so I increase the tempo to send him over the edge. "Faster Ali, I want to go with you," I whisper after gaining the strength to tear my lips from his.

"Hurry," he grunts, and his hand speeds up to move in time with his hips.

So fast that I'm caught unawares, I shatter beside my lover, unconsciously throwing my head back and keening with the force of my release. The sensations, absent for so long, are so mind bending that I'm scarcely aware of Alistair joining me in completion. Just as I realize this, I'm bombarded for a second time, leaving me breathless and trembling against his side.

Possibly sensing my over-stimulation, his dripping hand wanders from my core and up to my hips, where his thumb traces a small scar I'd received in Ostagar. "That-there are no words," he murmurs, his mouth lowering to explore my heaving mounds.

My body, glistening from our exertion, thrums with carnal delight as his calloused hands proceed to discover all of my secret places and make me cry out over and over again in long awaited gratification.

Then, his need renewed much faster than I was expecting, Alistair situates himself between my still quaking thighs. "I don't ever want to hurt you," he confesses, the tip of his manhood taunting my entrance.

"You won't," I soothe away my lover's uncertainty and snake my long legs around his waist.

As gently as he can be in his eager innocence, he joins our bodies at an infuriatingly slow pace. Whimpers rumble anew from my throat as he fills me to the brim and pauses, giving me time to revel in the simple but meaningful act of being claimed by the man I love.

"Oh Maker," he pants, the laborious heaving of his broad chest betraying the effort it is taking for him to keep control, "You feel...divine...so hot...around me..."

I rock my hips against him and don't even try to hide a smirk when he grunts his surprise at the friction. Catching on quickly, he starts to move at a languid tempo and I mewl my approval into his shoulder. He seems content, at first, with the pace, but as the sensations overwhelm his mind and body, the rate of his undulations increases more and more until he is madly pistoning in and out of my more than accepting body. The new waves of pleasure coursing through me shows itself on his biceps in the form of long red lines marring his skin.

Soon enough though, all self control abandons my lover, and he moves on to shorter, more forceful strokes, so I suggest a change of position in order to stave off his release. Alistair agrees without hesitation, then whips our bodies around so that I am straddling him.

It's not my most favored position, but the difference in how he feels inside of me instantly catapults it into my top three. After adjusting myself slightly, I arch back and brace myself on his muscular thighs, then begin to writhe atop my lover enthusiastically.

"Glorious," he purrs while his hands once again seek out my breasts, kneading and playfully twisting the puckered flesh at their peaks.

I shift my weight to one arm, then use my free hand to clasp one of his and bring it down to the apex between my legs. Almost immediately after he begins working my cluster of nerves, the tremors accompanying my completion take over, leaving me to frantically thrash astride my beloved as he continues pounding into me.

"Too much Lex, I can't hold on," he suddenly wails and I feel his warm seed fill me. I don't know if it is my body trying to make the most out of our joining or the sensations caused by his wild movements, but I find myself crashing over the edge once more.

As Alistair calms enough to show the signs of at least semi-coherency, he pulls me down flush against his chest while leaving our lower halves still decadently connected. I hum in contentment as he then peppers my hair, face and any other skin he can with soft, chaste kisses, paying special attention to the still mending red line streaming down my face and neck.

Almost an hour passes this way, with me drifting in and out of the Fade, when the warrior breaks the silence with a chuckle.

"What are you cackling about?" I mumble, silently put out with his mistimed bout of mirth.

"I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to wake you," he brushes a lock of crimson hair from my forehead and replaces it with his lips in way of apology, "It's just that I think I've figured out why Zevran is the way he is and why Sten and Morrigan are so annoyed by him. Oomph! Hheey!" he finishes because I swat him in the face with a pillow before rolling off of him and burrowing into the blankets.

**Translations-**

**voi fortunati ragazza-you lucky girl**

**Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my own lovable lug to go tackle.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Not much feedback the past few chapters, though my numbers are saying that they were enjoyed :-)**

**I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but after numerous rewrites, this is the only one that kind of worked for me. Sorry :-(**

**Oh, and if someone happens to find my brain along the way, could you remind it that we don't actually own anything Dragon Age?**

"Come on beautiful, it's time to get moving," Alistair urges between kisses feathered along my hairline, "Zevran has already been by, looking for you." It doesn't escaped my notice how some of the joviality fades as he utters my surrogate sibling's name.

"He can wait five more minutes," I reach over to pull him close only to find that he is out of bed and dressing for the day. "What are you doing Ali? Come back to bed where it's warm..."

"Ugh, if I only could my love," he glances down at me with his best sad puppy eyes, "But Leliana was just here for the third time this morning and wouldn't leave until someone answered the door. I'm actually surprised that she didn't wake you with the racket she was making."

"I was having a good dream," I confess while watching him shoulder a plain brown cloak, "Please stop putting more clothes on and get back in bed so I can show you what it was about."

"You saucy minx, you know I can't," my warrior flashes me an adorable pout before pushing a mug into my hands, "Wynne sent that along with Leli, said that you'd know what it was for."

I take a sip of the vile concoction then set aside the cup in favor of rummaging through the pile of our discarded clothing until I find Alistair's abandoned tunic and tug it on, "Yes, well with the Blight and the Archdemon filling our dance cards, I don't think either of us want to test the supposed infertility of the Grey Wardens, do we?"

He stops fighting with his boots and gives me an appraising look, his hand ghosting along my toned abdomen, "Oh, I don't know if it would be all that bad, seeing you round with my child," he pauses a few moments, then abruptly stands and turns to toss another log on the dying fire, "Of course, the Archdemon would probably go and off itself when it seen that I, of all people, had procreated."

"When this is all over, if you wanted, we could try," I murmur, taken aback by my own words.

When he looks at me this time, his eyes are misty, "Lex, the only Wardens I ever knew to have children-they had been parents before the Joining...Wait, I thought you didn't want kids?"

I shimmy into my breeches and shuffle over to him, winding my arms around his thick neck and burying my face in his chest, "I didn't, I just turned seventeen a week ago for Maker's sake, but with you, the thought of having your children, I think I could get used to the idea."

"Your birthday was last week? Why didn't-did you just say that you're seventeen?" his hands clasp my upper arms and he forces me back so he can see my face, "Don't lie to me Lex. How old are you?"

"Old enough to fight darkspawn and die for the people of Ferelden Alistair," I snap, both heart and mind stinging from his sudden coldness, "They don't care how many summers I've seen, so why should you?"

"So young to have seen all this death," he whispers, releasing one hand to caress my face, "It's not that I have a problem with it love, I just always thought you older, the way you erm, handled yourself. You know this means I have to get you a present now, don't you?"

I jostle my wrist so that the bangle bounces around, "You already got me one, so no need to waste our meager funds on me Ali. And don't you dare try to use the whole 'Everyone deserves something on their birthday' line on me buster."

"I have other lines for you, trust me," his cocky smirk makes its grand entrance as he lowers his face to kiss me, "I love you, my beautiful, thorny rose."

"As I love you, my perfectly coiffed, cheese obsessed princeling, even when you are being a jerk," I snicker and push him towards the door, "Now you need to go find Leliana and go talk to those knights before she comes crashing in here again. I'd hate to have to kill the girl because I'm awake too early and haven't come to terms with it yet."

"As you wish," he hums and disappears through the portal, leaving me to try and slink back to my chambers for a change of clothes before the Antivan returns.

I choke down the last of Wynne's syrupy potion, mainly because I really don't have the desire to test the theory of a Grey Warden's infertility right now, and duck behind the ornate modesty screen where my bag is stowed.

I unwillingly shrug off Alistair's tunic, then throw one of my own. Just as I finish tucking it in, I hear the door open quietly. My daggers are in my hands before I take another breath, but the action proves unnecessary when I see Zevran relaxing on my bed, one hand tucked under his head and the other stroking Havoc's enormous head.

"Ah, good morning to you, my fair sister," he lilts, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling with amusement, "It is good to see that you and your fellow Warden survived the night's...encounter. You must tell me how his performance rated-unless you would allow me to do a bit of testing myself?"

I belt on my weapons and shoulder my cloak before pulling him off the mattress and linking my arm with his, "Mio fratello, if you can manage to push all of that Chantry nonsense about the same sexes laying together not being right so far out of his thick head that he agrees to let you analyze his skills, you'll not only have an eternally grateful sister, you will have a rapt audience."

"I will remember those words when the time comes," he chortles as we move from the sanctuary of the building and into the icy morning drizzle, "And you do know that if you were not my beloved sister, I would have already utilized my own considerable skill set to lure you away from you dear warrior?"

"And if it had been anyone but Alistair that you were trying to tempt me from, your victory would have been an easy one," I confess to my adopted sibling.

"You are also aware that I would gleefully remove his heart through his bowels if he were to hurt you, yes?"

I hug his arm affectionately, "I am aware Zev. I'm also honored that you would do something like that for me considering not so long ago..."

"I was trying to end your life? What can I say? In the short amount of time we have traveled together, you have transformed something inside of me Lex," the elf gives me a sidelong glance as he utters my given name, "And I believe that I am a better man for it, so thank you."

"You are most welcome," I smile as we enter the seemingly endless train of carts and vendors that have been gathering since we cleaned the village of its undead a week ago.

Much to my dismay, most of our inquiries about Brother Genitivi either end up pointing us back towards the Redcliffe knights or onward to Denerim. Luckily, we fare better in our task of finding enough winter gear for everyone once we happen upon a gruff dwarven merchant passing through. We still get stuck on what to do for Sten and Havoc, but a widow taking refuge in the Chantry amends that when she offers to make the Qunari a cloak and the mabari a modified vest and set of fur lined booties from the wolf pelts we've gathered in exchange for allowing her to keep the spare furs. My favorite four legged friend whines quite a bit when the woman takes measurements of his neck, chest, and feet, but it only takes a single threat to not procure him another juicy bone to still his protests.

Finally content with our morning's labors, the three of us begin the daunting task of winding through the crowd and not having any of our goods filched while we seek out our companions. Havoc doesn't help things any when halfway to our destination, he suddenly lets out an excited yip and darts down a side street.

"Try not to frighten too many people!" I shout after him amidst Zevran's side-splitting laughter, "What are you laughing at?"

The elf tries to straighten from his doubled over stance and fails miserably, "Perdonami amore, but seeing you treat a vicious war hound as if he were your child is too amusing of a thing, one that you do not see every day."

"I do not treat him like a-"

"Ooh, puppy!" a small child interrupts as he follows said war hound over to my side.

I glare down at the smirking onyx mabari, who barks in way of introduction. "Where in Andraste's shield did you find yourself a kid? You know if we keep him, he's going to have to learn how to fight darkspawn?" _Among other nasty things._

My companion growls in disagreement and I cheekily put my hands on my hips like my mother used to do when she would chide Fergus and I, "Yes I know that he's too young to fight darkspawn Havoc, but anyone who travels with us has to be able to defend themselves. Maybe you should take him back to his parents then? They might actually miss him if we keep him anyways."

The canine woofs his grudging agreement then nudges the child with his massive head until the boy concedes and follows the mabari back down the alley.

"You know, the way you and that dog connect sometimes, it's truly terrifying," my favorite voice in all Thedas declares from behind me and the still chortling assassin, "But then it occurs to me that you wouldn't be you without all of your quirks and the mabari scares me a little less."

"I noticed that you didn't say the same for our fearless leader," Leliana taunts as Zevran hands her a deep brown fur lined suede cloak to don, "Lex can't scare you that badly, unless I'm misinterpreting the sounds that were coming out of your room most of the night?"

My beloved's ears turn a dangerous shade of red as he moves closer, "I told you that the others would talk."

"One more word out of them and I'll feed the whole lot to the nearest darkspawn," I vow in lieu of an apology and kiss the tip of his nose before giving him his own deep blue garment, "Though it's as much your fault as it is mine that everyone heard us. Besides, with those two in the group, you are lucky that we didn't get a standing ovation."

"True," he acquiesces then executes a slow turn so I can get a satisfactory look at him in his new cloak, "Why did you pick blue, if I may ask?"

"Because our gray cloaks are known throughout Ferelden and even if it is more prudent not to go advertising ourselves, I didn't want you to feel like I was purposely severing all connection to the Wardens," I explain, fingering the soft gray fox fur on the edges of his cloak, "I remembered that blue was a prominent color in the Wardens coat of arms so I grabbed it. That's alright with you, isn't it? I mean if you don't like it, I can-"

His lips against mine silence my ever more panicked rambling and I melt against him, uncaring about the uncomfortable way my daggers are digging into me.

"Lex, it looks like you have a troll stuck to your face! I shan't be held accountable if you two get frozen together like that," our resident swamp witch snipes, earning herself a half-hearted growl from my partner as he retreats from our very open display of affection.

"You mean like your thighs?" his arm refuses to release me from his side even when Wynne glowers at us in disapproval, "Maybe Sten could help you with that little problem? You know, while he's at it, he could do us all a favor and remove the plank from your arse! That way you wouldn't be so grumpy all the time."

"Are you certain that you wouldn't be happier with him as, let's say, a ferret?" Morrigan's golden orbs flicker with mirth as she leers at me from beneath the cowl of her newly purchased burgundy mantle.

"Have I informed you yet today of what an insufferable bitch you are?" Alistair fires back, not missing a beat.

I start to chastise him for taking things too far, but am stalled by Morrigan's velvety guffaws, "No, I can't say that you have, my darling little melon brain, but now that you've corrected that oversight, my day is complete."

"Did I miss something?" Leliana mutters into my ear as we fall into step behind the insult-trading pair.

Having heard the question, Sten finally speaks up, "It seems the failed Templar has a spine after all."

"Perhaps this is their way of bonding?" Wynne offers while grabbing Havoc's collar so that he can help her up the steep incline, "Did anyone have any luck gathering more information on this Brother Genitivi?"

"Only insofar as we now know for sure that he left an assistant in Denerim to overlook his affairs in his absence," Alistair qualifies with a relieved sigh as he opens the tavern's rickety door and waves us in.

"So a trip to the capitol is inevitable then?" The Orlesian woman at my side presses, pausing only to wipe the worst of the mud from her boots, "There is no other way to find him?"

The Warden shakes his head negatively and Morrigan snorts, "Well aren't you just filled the the brim with good news today."

He gives me a pointed look before smirking evilly at the apostate, "Yep, that's me, bearer of sunshine, daisies, and witty one liners, all of them geared to ruin your day."

"How thoughtful of you Chantry boy," she retorts as the rest of us begin formulating a plan to get us into the city without ending up on the wrong side of a noose in the process.

**Translations-**

**perdonami amore-forgive me love**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry about the wait, I don't do sick and cranky very well.**

**Point out any mistakes my ailing brain has missed please.**

**Still no ownage on my behalf.**

On our third night out of Redcliffe, Alistair comes to sit on the log beside me while our other companions ready themselves for bed. "Can I talk to you about something for a minute?"

"Of course you can," I can't deny his pensive expression, "What's on your mind?"

"Erm, well, I was um, hoping that when we get to Denerim we could uh, look someone up?" he fumbles, wringing his hands like a worrisome nursemaid.

"You have a friend outside of the Grey Wardens?" I taunt my beloved and gently prod his ribs with an elbow, "I didn't think that was possible."

"Yes well, she's not really a friend-no not like that either!" he vehemently protests when I gape at his confession, "Her name is Goldanna...she's-she's my sister."

"Your sister? Why didn't you tell me about her before? I'd love to meet her!" Maybe she could shed some light on just how my beloved got exiled to the Templars.

"So would I, that's why I'm asking," he admits with a familiar flush making its way up his face, "I didn't even know I had a sister until just before I was sent packing to the monastery."

"How do you know that she still lives in Denerim then?"

"Duncan is the one who discovered that she lived in the capitol. We were planning on taking a trip there before the whole business with the Blight overshadowed everything..." he trails off for a moment before lifting my hand to his lips and kissing the palm, "Other than you, she is the only family I have left now that the Wardens are gone."

"What do you hope will happen when you meet her?" I counter, hating myself for what I'm about to say, "I mean twenty years is a really long time to have a sibling and never attempt to contact them Ali.

"I honestly don't know Lex. At the very least I'm praying that she will be able to tell me something about our mother. Best case scenario?" he sighs and shrugs one broad shoulder, "Everyone hopes to have a family to call their own. I'm just going to have to wait and see."

I give his hand a comforting squeeze, "I could go with you, if you want me to."

Alistair presses his lips into my hair then lays his head against mine before answering. "I think I'd like that, my new family meeting my old one. I doubt if I could face her without you there regardless."

"Mostly because the only thing you talk seriously about is cheese?" I can't help but chortle.

"That and the numerous ways to hack apart darkspawn," he deadpans, his laughter joining mine, "Maybe I ought to talk about that in gruesome detail until someone decides to put me out of their misery with a skillet to the brainpan. Squish!"

"What am I going to do with you?" I quip after our boisterous round of mirth finally dies down.

"Oh, I could think of a few things," the warriors tone turns dark and alluring, "Better yet, I could think of a number of things to do to you..." The simple caress of his hand on my neck sets my body quivering anew, so I have to bite back a cry of protest when he unexpectedly breaks contact and gets to his feet, smirking all the while. "Well, I'd best head to bed now, wouldn't want to distract you whilst you stand guard over the camp."

"You arrogant son of an ogre humper, I'm going to get you for that little stunt," I seethe while desperately clamoring to wrestle back control of my faculties.

"I look forward to it. I love you," he starts to bow but ends up diving for the safety of his tent as I lob a rock at him.

Still grumbling, I stand and stretch before heading out to do a perimeter check along the fringes of our modest clearing. A sleepy rhythm of paws against dirt alerts me that Havoc is trailing close behind.

As I near Sten's tent, I slow my pace out of habit, having grown used to our evening talks when either of us takes the first watch. I'm thrown off a little when he is not perched in his usual spot, but surmise that he must have retired early like the others.

Just as I shift direction to resume my duties, I hear the Qunari speak from inside his tent. "Here, bite on this."

What?

"I am flattered by your concern, but am not convinced that t'will be necessary," Morrigan answers, also from inside his tent.

"As you wish," is the giant's reply which is then followed by a gasp and a muffled grunt.

I have to smother my astounded laughter at the sounds that follow before scurrying away in an effort to escape them.

Once a safer distance from the mismatched couple, I glance down at my shadowy mabari, "Who would have thought Sten and Morrigan would end up getting along so well? I can't really say anything though, they deserve every bit of happiness and companionship that they can find...just like the rest of us."

My stalwart friend huffs in concurrence and we continue on our way in companionable silence.

It's near the end of our three hour stint when Havoc suddenly lunges to his feet and raises his nose into the bitter wind. "What is it boy?" I ask and am answered with a rumbling growl.

A slight movement to the south catches my attention, provoking me to roll over the back of the log and slither to the nearest shelter, which happens to be Zevran's. Stealthily drawing my dagger, I flip it around and use the pommel to tap on the former Crow's foot.

"I am awake Mia sorella," he breathes through the opening just before sliding out beside me. I motion for the war hound to awaken Sten and Morrigan while Zev gets Leliana and Wynne and I venture out to alert Alistair.

Less than two feet from my companion's pavilion I hear a crossbow bolt be fired through the gloom. "Ali!" I keen, barely managing to deflect a second bolt aimed my way, "Ali, we're under attack!"

In a flash, the encampment explodes into a flurry of hurling blades, bolts, and spells. After spotting my fellow Warden emerge from his shelter, I launch myself at the nearest target and sink my blades into his back. Another man comes screaming at me, so I pull the weapons from the corpse and swing them around behind me in time to catch the attacker in the stomach. Maintaining my momentum, I dance in a tight circle and slash at a horned Qunari while Alistair decapitates it.

"Dammit Morrigan, Wynne, move your asses behind Sten!" Alistair yells over my shoulder and I spin around in time to see the dark haired apostate clumsily avoid a mercenary's great sword before shrieking and bursting into the form of a giant spider.

"Don't they know how dangerous it is to upset a woman, especially when she wields magic?" Zevran cackles a few feet away before catapulting his sprightly self towards yet another opponent.

"I bet they do now!" I answer, divesting my sword of another corpse with Havoc's help.

"Truer words were never-Aagh!" Leliana screams as the right side of her chest abruptly spouts an arrow.

The battle forgotten, I race towards the bard as her legs lose the strength to hold her up and a dark red froth bubbles out from between her plump lips. "Wynne, help Leli!" I call out to the elder mage after crashing to the chilled earth and pressing my hands to the wounds on my friend's front and back.

"Di-did we get them all?" the ginger haired Orlesian rasps, weakly lifting a hand to wipe away the blood from her mouth, "We n-nneed information..."

I swivel my head around and fix onto the elf hovering over a fallen mercenary, "Zev, don't kill that one, we need to find out who sent them!"

My adopted sibling salutes with his dagger then waves Sten over to pick the man up. A tiny smile graces the giant's lips as he hefts the man off of the ground by his arms.

"Who sent you?" Alistair snarls, flinging thin lines of spittle onto the would be assassin's face.

"We were sent after the redhead," he whimpers in response then cringes as the Templar roars his frustration into the night air.

"Who wanted to kill Lex?" Zevran's cool tone betrays nothing of the maelstrom of emotions swirling in his cinnamon gaze.

The man shakes his head furiously, "No, not her. _Her_," he juts his chin towards Leliana whom both Wynne and Morrigan are now working on, "The woman described her in great detail and was willing to pay more than triple our normal rate to ensure it was done sooner rather than later."

"Woman? What was her name?" I demand, finally moving away from the bard to stand before Sten's prisoner.

"Marjolaine," the name is a curse out of Leliana, "I should have known she would come for me one day. Don't kill him Lex, it's not his fault."

"Information for your life then," Each word from the former Templar is dripping with venom.

"Is this another one of those human oaths that we have no intention of keeping?" Sten inquires while tugging on the mercenary's limbs just enough to make the man wail in agony.

"It all depends on the accuracy of his information," I tell the Qunari then leer hatefully at the whimpering man, "Where were you supposed to meet this woman after you'd killed my friend?"

"In Denerim, I swear!" his eyes begin to roll back into his skull and I signal for Sten to relax his grip. It takes almost a minute before the man is coherent enough to speak again, "In my pouch, written directions to the place."

I retrieve the piece of vellum and study it a bit then show it to the bard, who lets out a wrenching sob, "It is Marjolaine. I would know her handwriting anywhere."

Satisfied with the sorrowful confirmation, I give a stern look to Sten and Zevran, who proceed to drag the scumbag away from Leliana's range of sight.

"You can't kill him!" she feebly argues, knowing what the two men are about to do, "He gave you what you wanted!"

"Are you crazy?" I snap, easily pushing her struggling body back to the bedroll, "If you don't remember, he and his friends just tried to butcher us to get to you!"

"But we defeated them just like Zevran and the Crows! Why does one get to live and not the other?"

"Because he had nothing useful to offer in return for sparing his life," I answer in a flat timbre, "Besides, I can handle people trying to kill me, but killing my friends is something I can't condone. Havoc, think you can give me a hand with this mess?"

The midnight furred mabari rolls his ghost blue eyes at me then silently lopes over to the first corpse and takes its foot in his mouth. I grab its arms and together we relocate the body to the far reach of the clearing while Alistair trails behind with a jug of lamp oil.

The others join in the hasty cleanup then packing of our scattered supplies, the exception being Wynne, who watches over a now unconscious Leliana.

"We need to move her out of this weather," the senior enchanter finally breaks the weary silence, "If left exposed like this, I fear she may catch a sickness in her damaged lung."

"We ought to try and find the Dalish before heading to the capitol then," the elf chimes in, "From what I've heard of these wild elves, they are skilled healers and would no doubt be able to aid our crippled songbird."

"As much as I'm going to regret saying this, I agree with the assassin," my beloved adds as he steps up behind me and lays his arms around my shoulders.

"This coming from the addle-brained Templar who was just arguing that there was no way we would get lucky enough to find the Dalish camps this close to winter," I retort, earning myself a less than dignified snort, "But we won't be finding them tonight, so our first priority is securing another campsite."

"If I remember the area correctly, there is a shallow cave not a mile that way," Alistair offers, jabbing his finger to the south east.

"We will need to construct something to carry her on," Morrigan grumbles while fingering a deep purple bruise on her thigh, "T'would not be a bad idea to have one ready for the gray hair as well, since she looks to have reached her limits."

"You aren't looking too well yourself witch," the elder woman snipes before draping another blanket over her drowsing patient.

Two hours later, we are settling into our new campsite after making sure that the mages are set at opposite ends in an effort to minimize hostilities. I languidly doze in the arms of my Templar until the sun begins creeping over the horizon and I am compelled to retreat from his arms. He grumbles a bit when he realizes that I am beginning to break down our camp, but says nothing to invoke my ire.

The others soon follow my example and after we pause long enough to ingest a cold breakfast, we are once more on our way, this time heading deeper into the Brecilian Forest.

"If it isn't too much trouble, could you explain how we are going to find the Dalish?" Morrigan whines on our fourth day shambling through the heavy undergrowth, "Are we to seek out the biggest tree in the forest and sing silly songs around it in hopes of calling them to us?"

"Why don't you get started on that and tell me how it goes," I retaliate then shift to glare at the elf who has just taken up a spot on my right flank, "Well?"

"You were right, qualcuno sta seguendo il nostro percorso," he admits gravely, those dark eyes of his still scanning the surrounding wood.

"I thought as much. Ali, we're going to-"

"Stop right there outsiders," a heavily accented female voice orders and we suddenly find ourselves encircled by what seems to be a large Dalish hunting party, "Know that the Dalish take refuge in this part of the forest and you are not welcome here. Find another place to take your rest."

"My companion's and I have divested a lot of time and energy seeking you out so I'm not about to leave without speaking to your leader," I answer and slowly produce one of the ancient scrolls for her to see, "Your people are oath bound to aid us in our time of need."

"And what prevents us from killing you and saving us from more of your lies shem?" another hunter challenges.

"Unless you want to explain to your keeper just why you went and murdered the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden while they were trying to end a Blight, I would suggest that you belay the order to kill us," Alistair counters, his admission causing some of the elves to gasp in surprise and disbelief.

"Grey Wardens you say?" the woman prods, now unsure of her groups previous threats, "How do I know you speak the truth?"

I extend the treaty towards her, the seal upwards, "I highly doubt many people are stupid enough to run around, impersonating a Grey Warden nowadays."

He aquamarine eyes drift from my face, to the scroll, and back, "Perhaps not. I will take you to our keeper and let him decide how much truth is behind your words."

I give a slight bow of respect, "Thank you. If it's not too much, one of my companion's has been gravelly injured and our healer is too fatigued to aid her any longer..."

She shakes her head sadly and gestures for us to follow, "That is also something Zathrian must decide, so I suggest we make haste before your friend is beyond help."

"At least they haven't killed us," Wynne whispers as we lead our horses along the path behind the elven woman.

"Yet," Sten grumbles, glancing down towards the woman sleeping on the stretcher he is helping to carry.

**I'm going to go crawl in a hole and die now...this cold is kicking my ass...**

**Translations**

**qualcuno sta seguendo il nostro percorso—someone is following our path**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm beginning to wonder if my writing is that bad, since I'm lucky to get one or two reviews...meh, at least I'm having fun writing it lol**

**I still own nothing Bioware.**

"Sodding curses and werewolves and-" I begin, falling against Alistair and allowing myself to be wrapped up in his cloak.

"And wild living trees who have a thing for eating or falling on goddess like, crimson haired Grey Wardens?" he finishes with a weary grin, his fingers finding and gently dancing over the still aching bite wounds on my left shoulder.

"But despite all of that, you were able to convince Zathrian to end his curse, thus saving both the Dalish and the werewolves from a fate worse than death," Leliana chirps as she snuggles ever deeper into my adopted brother's side.

"Yes, the mighty Grey Wardens, who can easily overcome such nightmares as werewolves and darkspawn, but show them snow," Zevran sniggers at the ginger haired woman snuggling against him and languidly eases his feet closer to the blazing fire, "Snow sends them scurrying for the nearest shelter they can find. By the look on your face Lex, perhaps now is a good time to admit that I may have been hasty in persuading everyone to leave my wilder brethren behind so soon..."

I can do little but nod in agreement at the Crow's confession. Four days past saw us heading towards Denerim but only two days after our departure the blizzard struck, leaving us stranded under a thick cluster of ancient pines who, thus far, have managed to keep the worst of the weather off of us.

"Have you completely forgotten about the darkspawn?" Sten unexpectedly snarls, lurching to his feet, "The Archdemon will not pause the Blight on account of bad weather kadan."

This old argument. "Sten, I-"

"Sten, leave her alone," Alistair comes to my aid, knowing how I tire of the Qunari's constant complaints, "She is still recovering from the effects of those damn werewolf bites and nearly being crushed by one of those Maker forsaken wild sylvans. Not to mention we are all surrounded by nearly three feet of snow. Do you plan on digging a path for the horses so we can get to Denerim or are you volunteering to be everyone's personal pack mule?"

"She must be stronger than this if she plans on battling the Archdemon and winning," the grey skinned giant argues, his violet eyes flickering orange in the dull light.

"She will never live to face the Archdemon if she is not allowed to recover from her wounds first," Morrigan defends against her lover, much to my surprise, "A seasoned soldier such as yourself must know the futility of sending exhausted and crippled warriors into battle against powerful adversaries."

"Pashaara. I am done with this conversation, it is leading us nowhere," he mutters in response and slumps off towards his tent.

A few tense minutes tick by before Wynne gently pushes Havoc's head from her lap and stands, "I think I will retire as well. If my old bones are anything to go off of, the snow will be tapering off in the next day or so and I'm going to need the energy when we continue on our journey. Try not to stay up too late children."

We all call out, "Goodnight Nonna!" having adopted Zevran's affectionate nickname for the elder mage.

After watching Wynne disappear through her tent flaps, Alistair presses a kiss to my temple before turning serious, "Have you decided who is accompanying you in your search for Marjolaine yet?"

"I was planning on taking you, Leliana, and Zevran," I admit, reaching out to stroke my mabari friend as he repositions himself beside us, "With everything us rogues have been teaching you, you move much more stealthily than you used to, which is quite advantageous on many levels, but I'd rather go in knowing I can rely on your strength should things go awry."

"Well, it's good to know that I can still be of some use to you though we both know that you hit nearly as hard as I nowadays," his lighthearted chuckle echoes in the chilled air, "And here I'd finally grown used to the whole 'Alistair, bash that door!' thing we had going on before."

"Maybe if you behave she will permit you to do more than wrestle doors, yes?" my Antivan sibling teases with a waggle of his pale eyebrows, "Should that become the case, then I am more than willing to offer my services. Scometto che I gusti sorella divina."

"You are one evil elf, "Alistair mutters, his face now an uncanny likeness to an overripe tomato, "It's not fair, always conspiring against me in languages you know I don't understand."

"Tis no fault of theirs that you do not understand their words," Morrigan immediately chastises my lover, "Mayhap you ought cease with your infantile pouting and actually ask them to teach you."

"Where would I find my amusement then, most beautiful mage?" Zevran veers his umber gaze towards the apostate, "If I willingly give up that bit of fun, are you going to be so kind as to entertain me with an explanation of how that top of yours manages to stay on even in the heat of battle?"

"Alexa, it might be prudent to remind your pet assassin that though he lives by your whim, I could drastically alter the quality in which he exists but with a flick of my wrist," she huffs before she also leaves the warmth of the bonfire in favor of her tent.

Undaunted, the Antivan's expression grows mischievous, "I often wonder what it would feel like to make love as a woman..."

"You never learn, do you fratello?" I don't even try to suppress a smirk, "I swear that I will laugh my arse off if she comes back out here and transforms you into a nug for that little comment."

"Ooh, I always wanted one of those little bunny-pigs!" Leliana claps her gloved as hands gleefully as a child, "I could call you Schmooples and then the Crows would never be able to find you! I would have to be extra careful though-to make sure you didn't accidentally get eaten or anything."

"We don't really have to go that far," Alistair gets in a jab at the elf's expense, "If he gets eaten, I would make it my personal duty to buy you another nug. You could even name that one Zevran. In fact, I would insist on it."

"You wound me with your words il mio bel ragazzo," Zevran clutches his hands over his heart for added effect, "Tell me what I have done to have my heart pierced so cruelly!"

"As a whole? Like since you first joined us? Or just today? That could take a while, maybe even all night," the former templar deadpans then nearly falls over with laughter when Zevran opens and shuts his mouth a few times, then bows his head in defeat.

"Alright you two, enough picking on each other," I disengage my weary form from Alistair's cloak and, shivering, shamble upright, "I'm off to bed."

"Do you need any help changing those bandages on your shoulder?" Leliana queries and there is something in her eyes that tells me that this is less about not wanting to be stuck with guard duty and something more of a personal nature. I give her a silent nod and kiss the golden crown of Alistair's head before leaving the flickering halo of light.

Contrary to my assumptions, the Orlesian woman is eerily quiet as she helps me shed my layers of warmth and dampens the soiled bandage which has fused itself to my wound. "You seem...distracted," I finally prod, still not wanting to distress the still healing bard.

"I...I lied to you Lex, about how I came to be at the Chantry in Lothering," is her hushed response, "And right now I am so scared that you will make me leave or worse, hate me, if I reveal the true reasons I fled Orlais."

I snag one of her hands after she strips off the fouled wrappings, "Leli, you don't have to tell me anything more than you are ready to reveal, though you must know by now that you can trust me with anything that is on your mind. We're all running from something, remember?"

"But what if you cannot help but hate me?" not for the first time since joining us, the vulnerable woman she truly is peeks out from beneath her carefully construed mask of bubble-headed cheerfulness.

I gaze at her wordlessly until she raises her cerulean orbs to meet mine. "Leliana, there are very few people in this world that I genuinely hate, you are not-nor will you ever be-one of them."

"You know, I see you in the same light as Zevran? Sorella," the woman gives me a watery smile, "A sister. In my language it would be sœur. Though I must also confess that it was not always so. For a time after I joined your party, I was fascinated by you. Your willful presence, your gleaming smile, everything about you had me entertaining thoughts...you must think me some deviant now..."

I shake my head and squeeze her hand, "Not at all. I'll have you know that my first lover was a Rivaini ranger who was passing through on her way to Amaranthine. She and her brother were...quite close, and thus he became my first male lover. In the week that they were in town, it was not unusual to have the two of them to share my bed at once. Do you think me a deviant for that?"

"Not at all," she acquiesces, then her eyes grow wide, "Does Alistair know?"

I smile in admission, inciting a similar grin from her, "You seem so innocent and mysterious all at once. There is so much more to you than even your closest confidants realize Alexa Rose."

"Such is the same the world over, mia sorella," the Antivan word easily falls from my tongue, "But this was not to be a night for just me to confess my sordid history..."

The bard proceeds to captivate me with tales of growing up in Orlais and her time with Marjolaine. There are times when I have to smother the urge to confess my intent of finding her former lover and destroying the woman for the pain and anguish that my newest adopted sibling struggles with every day as a result of the betrayals forced on her.

We talk so late into the night that we accidentally end up dozing off together, huddled beneath our shared cloaks and blankets. I barely rouse out of the Fade when Alistair crawls inside of the shelter and curls himself around my body. I breathe a contented hum when his strong arms snake around me and draws me closer, then let out a drowsy snicker as Leliana worms closer as well and buries her face into my long hair. "I love you," my beloved murmurs as I slide back into the land of dreams.

**Shorter chapter, I'm sorry, but I had to stick with the natural ending and not force it, since you're already reading the fifth version of this chapter...**

**Translations**

**scometto che I gusti sorella divina-I bet that he tastes divine sister.**

**Il mio bel ragazzo-my beautiful boy**

**sœur-french for sister  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**I still don't own!**

"Are you challenging me Sten?" I ask incredulously while still trying to keep an eye on the band of refugees that are packing the supplies we'd managed to reacquire after coming upon the bandit attack.

"You have lost sight of your goal Warden," he stoically replies and reaches for the great sword strapped to his back.

"Don't make me do this Sten," I plead, my hands drifting toward my own weapons, "I don't want your blood staining my hands as well."

"The time for talking has passed, draw your sword and prove you deserve to lead us," the Qunari threatens as he drops into his attack stance, "I will cut you down where you stand if you do not."

"Do you truly want the the murder of another innocent person on your hands?" I try to reason, unwilling to be drawn into a senseless fight but unable to back down from the displaced soldier either.

He is unrelenting though, and raises his massive blade over his head. I prepare to spring backward and retaliate as he swings, but just before I make my move, the sword is diverted by someone else.

"I thought I told you once already to leave her alone," Alistair snarls, his handsome features twisted with fury, "How many times am I going to have to say it before you get it through your thick fucking head?"

Not waiting for a response, he slams his shield into the other man's chest then, while Sten is still staggering from the blow, draws Duncan's dagger and sword from their sheaths, and throws a flurry of blows at him.

"This is not your fight Templar!" Sten bellows, but his protests fall on deaf ears as Alistair continues his assault.

My beloved, utilizing every trick Leliana, Zevran, and I have taught him, soon outmaneuvers the Qunari soldier, and Sten inevitably finds himself lying on his back with two blades at his throat. Leliana has to grab me when Alistair leans over the larger man, "Now, this is the last time I am going to say this, so pay attention. You. Will. Leave. Alexa. Alone. If you ever pull something like this again, I will kill _you_ where _you_ stand. Is that understood?" he grabs a handful of white braids and smacks his opponent's head off the ground for good measure, "Is it?"

"Yes, it is understood," Sten finally concedes and closes his eyes as Alistair rights himself and makes his way over to where the rest of us had gathered to observe the confrontation.

"I must confess that I did not believe you had the intestinal fortitude to do such a chivalrous thing, least of all for it to be done in our beauteous leader's name," Zevran cheerfully admits while we watch Wynne fret over the warrior, no doubt searching for any grievous wounds.

"Stop being so rude Zev," Leliana scolds, and finally relinquishes the death grip on my arm as Alistair stretches a hand out to me.

"That does not mean the elf speaks any falsehoods," Morrigan challenges, but flashes my lover an approving look, "The fool is fortunate that the Qunari did not get the upper hand or Lex would have been farewelling her lover this day."

As soon as the silver haired mage clucks that she has finished with him, I jab a finger into my fellow Warden's now unarmored chest. "What in the hell were you thinking, getting between Sten and me like that?"

"You are more than welcome my love. It warms the cockles of my heart to hear you utter such poetic words of gratitude after I saved your life," he aims a cocky smile down at me, "No, no, don't argue with me now, it was nothing, anyone would have done the same for someone they love."

"I could have handled him just fine Ali," I grumble, drawing back and crossing my arms over my chest, "You just wanted your chance to hit him."

He captures my chin with his hand and lifts it until our faces nearly touch, "He could have killed you Alexa, if I hadn't intervened. If I lost you, none of this that we have been striving, fighting, and bleeding for would mean anything to me anymore. So I had to do it, you see, because I would let the world burn if you'd been cut down."

"I wasn't going to let him kill me," I insist, shaking myself from his grasp and laying my head over his still wildly thrumming heart, "I was planning on rolling out of the way at the last second so that he was overbalanced when I attacked."

"Then you-it was-you were feigning?" the tone of his voice leaves no room for anything but sincerity.

"Yes Alistair, it was all a ruse," I assuage my harried lover and wind my arms around his waist, "I was using what you taught me about luring your enemy in close, then hacking them into bite sized bits."

His hazel orbs darken lustfully as he gazes down at me, "Have I ever told you how sinfully sexy it is when you talk about eviscerating people? If we didn't have these refugees to look after, I'd throw you over my shoulder and take you somewhere more private to show you exactly what it does to me."

"Just don't forget you said that later on when we're alone," I command then press a quick kiss to his lips before shifting my attention to the ravaged caravan and its survivors, "Where are you heading? If our destinations be similar, we would gladly escort you to safer roads."

"Our final goal be Denerim Ser," a dark haired lanky young man answers for the group, "And we'd be mighty grateful for any protection you could give us."

"Then our paths be the same. We're going to have to get your people outfitted better for the trip there though with the darkspawn growing bolder by the day," I confess before retrieving a money pouch from my horse and tossing it to Bodhan, "This should more than cover the expenses for what cannot be plundered from our surplus gear. I want every able bodied man and woman armed with whatever can be spared."

"Aye, right away Warden," the dwarf salutes, then instructs Sandal to start unloading their stash of arms and armor.

"Sten, Alistair, I want a heavy sword at each end of the line. Zevran, Leliana, get whoever can use a bow and find a spot on the wagons. Wynne, stay with the children and show them how to apply poultices. It will come in handy if we run into anything else before nightfall," I scan the area until I find the swamp witch, "Morrigan, I need eyes in the sky, be watchful for more bandits and darkspawn. Havoc, you're with me bud."

After outfitting as many people as possible, we set a grueling pace to get as much distance between us and the bloodied site as possible before making camp for the night. To aid in maintaining our speed, we offer our horses up to those wounded who cannot fit onto the wagons. My feet hate me for the selfless act, but relief overlaps it a few hours later when we come upon an abandoned homestead that still has its barn largely intact.

"And I was just beginning to feel nostalgic about the cramped quarters I lived in at the monastery," Alistair banters while we help the refugees climb up into the loft, "The only things I'm missing now are the odorous air of sweaty socks and the scowls that are a prerequisite if you ever hope to be accepted as a fully fledged member of the order."

"Morrigan or Sten can help you with the scowls," Leliana giggles, handing a small boy up to his mother, "But I absolutely refuse to help you with your smelly sock fixation."

"He can sniff his own if he runs out of options," I tease, earning myself a half-hearted glare from my lover, "Just be thankful that he hasn't begged to make his lamb stew again."

"That was lamb?" the Orlesian shudders, then quickly composes herself under Alistair's wounded gaze, "I didn't realize because in Orlais, the way we prepare lamb, it ends up with a much different texture."

"Ha-ha, it couldn't have been that awful, Havoc kept begging for more," the Templar gives a weighted look at my mabari then drops his head, "Then again, I am referring to a dog whose ancestors used to be fed the body parts of their owners enemies."

My four legged companion, upon hearing the man's gruesome little tale, scurries behind me and utters a worried whine. I reach back and scratch behind one pointed ear, "Don't worry about silly Alistair's story, I would never feed you another person...except for maybe Ali himself if he does something else extraordinarily, mind blowingly, stupid again."

"You would feed me to him? Gee, it's nice to know how much you really care Lex," my beloved grumbles in dejection, "Why do I always get shuffled farther down on the list than the damn dog?"

"Tis a simple enough question to answer. Although the canine annoys everyone with his incessant digging, gifts of mauled dead animals, and fleas, he is still smarter than you," Morrigan quips as she shrugs her dark red cloak on over her thin shoulders, "But then again I may be biased because I believe the war hound to be more intuitive than most people I've met."

"Your unwavering faith in your own species is truly awe inspiring, my fair Morrigan," Zevran chimes in as he appears with the bulk of our spare blankets, "You are an inspiration to us all."

The apostate glowers at my Antivan brother, "Be comforted in this then Crow. I am not prejudiced, I hate everyone equally regardless of race, gender, or occupation."

"And I wouldn't have you any other way," he smirks, unabashed by her thinly veiled barb, then looks over my way, "We would put the rifugiati at better ease, I believe, if we doubled up on the guard tonight sorella. It is not exactly necessary, but I feel it will aid in relieving tensions. With so many bambinos, I cannot conjure a more pleasurable solution."

I glance around the interior of the barn until I find Sten already standing vigil between a gap in the structure's damaged main doors, "What do you think of Zev's idea Sten?"

"The assassin's proposed strategy has merit," the grey skinned giant replies without turning around.

"I agree. Since Wynne is staying with the wounded, I want you up there to help her where it's needed Morrigan. Sten, Alistair, and Zevran, you three take first watch. Leliana, Havoc, and I will take the second. It may not be exactly a double watch, but it will do for tonight."

With duties now assigned, the ginger haired bard and I opt to construct a bed of straw in one of the stalls, rather than sleep above with the others, in case any trouble springs up during the night.

"Why did you have Alistair take a separate watch then you?" she inquires as we snuggle together for added warmth, "Did he do something to upset you again? I know Zevran would happily make him very sorry if he-"

"No, he didn't do anything wrong sorella," I quickly reassure her as my mabari makes himself comfortable at our feet, "Grey Wardens, the ones that survive their initiation, have the ability to sense or feel when darkspawn are near. It only works if they are within a few miles of us, but it's kind of an early warning system. I split the watch with Alistair so that if any darkspawn wander too close, one of us is awake to warn everyone."

"I guess that makes sense," she admits after a minute, then takes my hand in her own and rests her head on my shoulder, "I want you to know that I didn't mean to sound like I was questioning your tactics Lex, I was honestly curious."

"I know Leli, no harm done," I squeeze her hand in reassurance and let my eyelids fall shut, "I can't wait to be warm and sleep in a real bed again, I think I've forgotten what that feels like."

Leliana sleepily hums in agreement and I allow myself to fall away into the Fade.

**I know not long, but you know how these side quests can be :-)**

**Translation**

**rifugiati-refugees**

**bambinos-children**


	20. Chapter 20

**Bioware owns all things Dragon Age, I just like messing with the characters!**

"So this is the legendary city of Denerim?" Leliana tries and fails to suppress a grimace as we stroll through the city gates and onto the crowded streets of the Market district, "I always imagined it more...colorful than this."

"But you have to keep in mind that Ferelden is not just facing the Blight, it is mourning the loss of its king and those lost at Ostagar,"Alistair immediately defends the monstrous gray battlements and heavy steel gates that are predominant in the physical heart of our country, "Then with Loghain holding Anora's strings, it shouldn't be any surprise that the décor has taken a turn for the more...spartan."

"I think I smell fish stew, please excuse me," Zevran, oblivious to our companions talk, lilts as he turns on his heel and dashes toward a stall reeking of seafood.

"And we've lost another one," I comment when Leliana abandons the discussion and hurries after her elven lover, "I guess it's just going to be me, you, and the pup in charge of finding us rooms."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," my beloved murmurs in a dangerously low voice close to my ear then singles out a structure over my shoulder, "That's the Gnawed Noble, they ought to have room enough for all of us, and they'll let the drool factory stay as well. Oh, and they shouldn't have a problem with Havoc either."

"You don't drool that badly...usually," I deadpan and give his hand a gentle tug, "Let's grab our rooms now because I would really like to be washed and wearing clean clothes when we find this assistant."

"No you don't. You just want to get me alone so you can take advantage of me-Oh Maker," his feet freeze in midstep as he stares at one of the few residential buildings in the heart of the district, "Lex, I think that's my sister's house. It matches Duncan's description exactly."

"Are you sure?" I shift under the weight of his arm and peer up at his noticeably anxious expression, "I just don't want to go crashing into random people's homes, with the price on our heads and all."

His lips tremble as he silently reads the numbered plaque hanging by the door, then bobs his head, "It's the address he gave me, so yes, I'm sure. Could we at least try and see if-"

"Of course," I interject, reaching up and grasping his hand, "No time like the present."

When we reach the entrance, I can sense my companion's hesitation, so I order Havoc to stand guard and rap the brass knocker twice. A handful of tense seconds tick by before a feminine voice instructs us to enter.

"I do three shirts for two bits and two pants for three," a woman with wiry blonde hair, red hands, and a dour expression etched onto her ruddy face announces as we step into a room that is filled with a dozen lines full of clothing, "If that troll humper across the way says she can do better than that, she's a liar. I tell you that yer britches will still be stained when she gives them back, I've seen it with me own eyes."

I give Alistair a nudge and jerk my head in her direction, to which Alistair pales even further and I feel his frame tense as if he's about to take off running. Clamping down on his hand, I give him a hard look until he finally sighs and bobs his head in agreement. It's now or never.

"I'm sorry to be a bother madam, but I'm looking for Goldanna, a friend of mine said that she resided here," my fellow Warden begins, the timbre of his voice showing no outward signs of his panic, "She would have originally hailed from Redcliffe, where her mother was a servant up until about twenty years ago."

"Aye, I be Goldanna," the woman hands her wicker basket over to a girl of about twelve, then crosses her arms over her bosom, "Who be askin'? I ain't been back to Redcliffe since my mother and her babe died and those bastards threw me out on my arse with naught but a bag of supplies and a few sovereigns."

"I—well-urm-I don't know why they would tell you that," Alistair stammers a bit before regaining his composure, "The child didn't die. I'm uh, him. I'm your brother."

"Brother?" the harpy lets out a humorless cackle then snorts disdainfully at my companion, "You are the one who killed my mother after that rat bastard forced himself on her and you have the gall to call yourself my brother? They make you nobles dumber nowadays than I thought."

"It's not Alistair's fault, what happened between Maric and you're mother. He didn't ask to be born," I chime in as calmly as I can though I'm quickly tiring of her grating personality, "Please, he came to find the only blood family he has left in the world."

"Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. Well, he's found me, now he can go back to his cushy little castle and have a good laugh with that spineless Arl Eamon," Goldanna's visage grows murderous, "Who the fuck are you anyways? Some bodyguard that also doubles as a bed warmer when he can't find a whore on short notice?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" my lover roars, every ounce of kindness washed away as he moves to shield me from her hostile glare, "She's a Grey Warden, like me, and she deserves at least a little respect!"

"I'll give ye respect when you hand over some of that cold hard coin I know you've got hidden somewhere," his waste of a sibling sneers, "Bein' a prince and a Grey Warden, I bet your coffers are overflowin' an' I got five mouths to feed. If you won't help, get outta my house."

"I knew this was a bad idea," I mutter under my breath and give him a not so subtle yank towards the door, "She's just going to keep blaming her inability to keep her legs closed on you as long as you're within firing distance." I pull the door open and push him through, "Wait out here for me, I'll be out in a minute."

"But Le-" I silence his argument with a kiss, then shut the door on him before spinning around and pinning the bitch against the wall, my dagger at her throat.

"I don't give a damn who you are or how you are related to that amazing man standing outside," I hiss and slide my blade down until it rests under one of her breasts, "If I ever hear of you talking to or about him in such a manner ever again, I will cut both of your saggy milkbags off. All he wanted was to find his family and to be accepted by you."

"I'll scream and the guards will come," she simpers, her azure orbs overflowing with terror now.

"No matter, I'm dead anyways. Just realize that your throat will still be slit before they can save you," I smirk and tap one red cheek with my blade with one hand while I pocket her weighty coin bag with the other, "Have a nice life bitch."

She doesn't move a muscle as I slip out and rejoin the beleaguered almost Templar, "We can go now my love."

"So...is she still breathing?" he prods after I claim his hand and resume our trek to the tavern, my mabari trotting close behind.

"There's not a mark on her," I evade and huddle closer to his larger physique to escape the worst of the biting wind, "Did you really think that I would kill your last living relation simply because she is a money grubbing bitch?"

"Normally I would say no, but you got all scary calm Lex and well, I wasn't so sure after that. Now don't give me that look," he glowers as we trade the chilling day for the too warm air of the inn, "You forget that I have been around long enough to know what usually happens when that moods strikes you."

"If you think I'm bad, just imagine what it could have been, had Morrigan or Zevran decided to tag along to your little family reunion," I challenge as I lean against the rough cut bar and wave the barkeep over.

"What can I do for ye?" the iron haired man queries, inspecting us with a bored gaze.

"Yes, we will need four rooms, double occupancy, for two nights. Water for two hot baths now and water for five later this evening," I elaborate and begin counting the coin out, "Meals will be on a per person basis. Oh, and make it three baths now, five later."

After the man sees my four legged friend, it takes a few more minutes of haggling-and a not so accidental flash of Bann Teagan's signet ring-to find an acceptable tithe for our accommodations. Satisfied that we still have some coin left, I tie a note to Havoc's harness and send him after my adopted siblings, then follow my beloved up the stairs with heavy feet.

I stop Alistair from entering immediately, much to his displeasure, choosing to err on the side of caution and check for any hidden malignancies before giving him the all clear. Once inside, as an extra precaution while Alistair loads the fireplace and Havoc reappears-sans note- to acquaint himself with one of the beds, I prop my green blade under the door knob and jam a few broken arrow shafts through the shutter latches.

Happy with my security measures, I saunter over to where my golden warrior awaits, peeling armor off as I go, and nearly moan out loud when the warmth instantly begins seeping into my aching body. "I was beginning to forget what it feels like to be something other than a walking block of ice."

"Don't blame me, I'm not the one who insisted on taking separate watches all the way here," my fellow Warden cheekily retaliates as he too sheds his armor and arches his form towards the blaze, "I guess that taught you what being all grown up and responsible will get you."

"Ah, deflection of bigger issues by killing me with humor," I roll my eyes and reach for my pack, "How are you holding up? After the sister debacle I mean?"

His shoulders slump as soon as the question sinks in and he folds himself down onto the rug, "I don't know. I mean, you kept warning me that things might turn out just like they did, but I wanted to believe that maybe this once, I could..."

I kneel down and take his hands in mine, kissing both before I speak. "Alistair, I love you with all of my heart and soul, but you have to stop being so naïve. Everyone you will ever meet has their own agenda and, unlike someone as sweet and honest as you, they will always try to use you to further their own goals if that is what they feel they must do. They are all out for number one, themselves."

"Everyone, you say?" he asks with sincere curiosity, "Tell me then, my beautiful, deadly rose, what is your agenda?"

"Ultimately or in the short term?" I counter as he draws me into his lap and lays his cheek against the top of my head, "Short term is easy. I want to find the Ashes, cure Eamon and get his help, corral the dwarves, and end the Blight."

"And what are your long term plans?" he presses, still tense despite the fire rapidly thawing us.

I squirm a bit until my ear rests on his chest and I can clearly hear the steady thumping of his heart. "I want to kill Rendon Howe, find out what became of Fergus, and...live my life. Not just survive like I have been. I want to actually live and be happy. With you. More than anything, I want what life I have left after avenging my family to be spent at your side, if you'll let me."

"Marry me Lex."

Not the answer I was expecting. I lean back and stare at him wide eyed. "What did you say? Repeat it please, so I know that I'm not hallucinating."

"Marry me, Alexa Rose," he reiterates without even a glimmer of humor dancing in his hazel pools, "Today, tomorrow, it doesn't really matter as long as you are mine before we leave this city."

My psyche flashes back to the gold ring I'd been hiding in my pack for weeks now. "I-" A knock on the door causes both of us to leap to our feet, ready for an attack, but it is only a serving boy laden with our buckets of steaming water.

To his credit, Alistair keeps quiet as we take turns sloughing the dirt and grime off our skin, then dressing in simple tunics and breeches to go shopping in. Just as wordlessly, he follows my lead when I don my cloak and boots, then head back out into the crisp afternoon.

Having noticed the building on our earlier excursion, I keep my jaw locked as we plod through the bazaar. When we finally march right up to the Chantry doors and file inside with a handful of other visitors, I pretend that I don't notice my beloved's gasp or the impish grin that takes over his tanned face.

I find a portly lay sister standing alone and make a beeline for her. She offers us a calm smile as we halt in front of her. "Good afternoon young ones, how can I help you today?"

Alistair, always my savior, suddenly finds his voice again. "We would like to be wed as soon as possible Sister. I'm with Captain Lockes regiment and we are leaving for an extended stint out in the bannorn in two days. We don't-"

"Enough said Ser," she answers with a wave of her hand, "You are not the first sweethearts who have wanted to be joined in the Maker's eyes before one of them left for war. Have you rings?"

"Yes," we respond simultaneously, then Alistair continues alone, "I also have a sovereign for your trouble."

"It is no trouble, but I am grateful for the sentiment," she chortles then calls over two other Chantry goers to be witnesses, "We shall proceed now, if there are no objections?"

The ceremony itself is quite simple, but meaningful. The kind Sister allows Alistair and I to utter our own vows of love and fidelity as we exchange our simple gold bands. The most unsettling part of the entire event is when it comes time to seal our union with a kiss and it takes an amused chuckle out of the old woman to remind us where we are standing.

Papers filled out and signed, I express my desire to return to our room, but my new husband has other plans. He all but forces me into a small shop near the Gnawed Noble and promptly selects two golden chains before he's willing to explain that he is afraid that our wedding bands will be damaged if we wear them into battle.

His logic sound, I decide, as we pause in an alleyway near the inn to place our rings on the chains and loop them around our necks.

"Do you want to tell the others?" my beloved murmurs after we're once more walking hand in hand and entering our temporary abode.

"Not yet. It's not that I'm not happy that I'm your wife, you know I am, I just want this to be something that only belongs to us for a little while longer," I kiss his jaw then wave a hand to our companions, who are already seated, "Besides, how often do we get a chance to hide something of this magnitude from people who claim they know everything?"

"Good point," he admits, then shifts his gaze to the others while we take our seats, "Did you find out anything interesting?"

"There is one thing il mio amico bello," Zevran lilts, leaning forward in his chair, "I came across a man today who gave me the location of a warehouse that Rendon Howe uses to store his payroll before it gets handed out. Assured me it would be worth our time and trouble."

"Did you scope out the address?" I push, holding my tankard to my lips to muffle the question for any eavesdroppers that might be near.

"I did, thoroughly," he taps one long finger against his temple, "Maybe after we deal with our little songbird's dilemma, we should give it another look, no?"

I nod my head and actually take a drink of my cider, "Tomorrow, after we deal with the other."

"That's good, because I'm too spent to do anything tonight," Alistair concurs in a normal tone, "I can hear my soft, warm bed calling out my name."

Latching on to his train of thought, I let out a loud, but no less genuine, yawn, "Me too. I think I'm just going to take my dinner upstairs so no one can laugh at me if I fall asleep while eating again."

My lover eagerly gathers our newly arrived plates of food and herds me up the stairwell to our rooms amidst thinly veiled snickers and outright bawdy whistles of encouragement. I'm going to neuter Zevran one of these days.

The enticing aroma of our meals too tempting to pass up, I wait until we both divest ourselves of our plates before shoving my hand down the front of my husband's tunic and lifting out his newest piece of jewelry.

He grins at me, unabashed by my bold move, and promptly returns the gesture to reveal my own adornment. "I love you, my wife. I-I can't believe I get to keep you forever," his tone is reverent and filled with emotion, "However long that might be for people like us."

I nudge him until he lays back on the bed then, after shedding our garments, straddle his trim hips and pepper his face with feather light kisses. "Forever is what we make it my dear husband, the same as everyone else. The only difference is that we already know to make every single moment of our forever count."

His only answer is a kiss, then a soft moan, as our bodies become one.

**I bet you didn't see that coming :-)**

**translation**

**il mio amico bello-my handsome friend  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**Still with me out there in FFland? Yeah? Just checking.**

**I still own nothing.**

"You know, in your heart, that you will never be free from her as long as she lives sorella," I tell Leliana, never shifting my gaze away from her former lover.

"And what makes you think that she would ever hold the same value in that word as you obviously do?" Marjolaine taunts with an embittered laugh, there's no question that she is grasping at the most feeble things now to delay her death, "She will betray you Warden, just as she has so many others, in order to save herself."

"I trust Leliana, no matter what slander that you vomit, so keep your vile tongue to yourself. Unless you wish me to remove it that is," I maliciously growl before I can stop myself.

"Thank you," my heart breaks at my Orlesian sister's mournful timbre, "But you are right. After all of the pain and suffering she has wrought, I cannot simply walk away and allow her to spread her poison. J'ai essayé d'être miséricordieux Marjolaine, mais vous me donnez pas le choix."

The elder spy's face twists with anger and she calls for her guards to aid her, but Zevran's patronizing chortle gives her pause. "Your guards are dead mia caro, I'm afraid that no one is coming to your rescue this time."

"And I wouldn't count on the city watch hearing your cry for help either," Alistair comments, still cleaning the blood of the aforementioned guards from under his nails with a knife, "It pays to be friends with a few mages who know how to keep things quiet, if you know what I mean."

I adjust my grip on her hair and wrench her head back, exposing her neck to my dagger, "I've been waiting a long time to free Leliana from her fear of you," I begin to put pressure on her throat, but in a blur, Leliana beats me by plunging a dagger into the woman's heart.

As Marjolaine slumps forward, I glance towards the bard, who now has Wynne wrapped around her as she sobs. "I can't believe I killed her," the bard simpers even as her Antivan lover sidles up and lays a hand on her shoulder, "She's dead because of me..."

The Crow and I exchange a look and he nods in understanding, "Why don't you come back to the tavern with Wynne and I amore?"

She hiccups her assent and they step around Sten as he comes in to help with the heavy lifting. "We'll meet you back there in a couple of hours, I still want to talk to Genitivi's assistant before we have to leave," I call out just before they disappear out the door.

When we are finished scrounging for things to sell, Alistair puts a hand on my arm as we are leaving, "What did Marjolaine mean when she asked if you thought Leli held the same value to a word as you? What word was she talking about?"

I adjust the weighty bag on my shoulder so the thin ropes aren't catching on my buckles, "She was making an inference to the word sorella, but her ultimate goal was to discredit Leliana and make me doubt her."

"Sorella. I've heard Zevran call you the same thing," he muses, stealing my bag and throwing it over his shoulder, "I thought it was some kind of Antivan title or something. What does it really mean?"

"It is a title, of a sort," I qualify and motion for Morrigan, still in the shape of a black dog, to follow us down the alley after I hurriedly wipe my leathers off, "Not a royal one or anything. It means sister."

"So Zevran and Leliana consider you a sister?" his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, "Wow, I wasn't expecting that. The way he says it makes it sound so, I don't know, dirty. I was starting to worry that I was going to have to fight him to keep you."

I reach up and pat his breastplate approximately where his ring should hang, "You have nothing to worry about from Zevran-or Leli for that matter- I promise."

Morrigan rumbles in disgust, then dips into a darkened alcove. "I'm going to gouge my eyes out if you two keep on with these sickening displays of affection," the witch snarks as she appears in human form a minute later.

"Then you might want to find yourself a sharp stick to carry around," my adoring companion cheekily responds and presses his lips to mine.

"I believe that is the domicile you are seeking," our resident Qunari interrupts with a nod towards a nondescript building, so we shuffle over and rap on the door.

"Maybe no one is home?" my spouse unhelpfully offers when there is still no answer after a fifth knock.

"No, I can hear someone or something moving around inside," I counter, reaching for my lock picks. Havoc lets out his doggie laugh as I deftly unlock the door. "What? Whoever it is could be hurt right? What kind of people would we be if we just walked away?"

"Have I told you lately how much I love that devious mind of yours?" my fellow Warden snickers while my warhound rolls his eyes. I shrug a shoulder and ease the door wide enough for us to slip into the building.

It takes no time at all to find the source of the noise I'd heard. A dark haired man is frantically shoving books into a bag. "Are you Weylon?"

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of my voice. "What? Yes," he confirms, a hand still clutching his chest as he swivels around to look at us, "What do you need? Brother Genitivi isn't available at the moment and won't be back for some time."

Something about his demeanor makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but I keep my composure relaxed and gesture to his bags, "Are you going to see him? If so, my companions and I would be happy to escort you, we have urgent business with him."

A fine sheen of perspiration erupts on the man's forehead and he shakes his head, "No, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm just packing these up on his orders."

"So you've been in contact with him recently then?" Alistair prods, the barely perceptible wrinkle between his eyebrows alerting me that he isn't fooled either, "We wouldn't ask if the situation wasn't dire."

"Yes—no, I mean I haven't been in direct contact with him, if that's what you're asking," the now obvious imposter rambles, his eyes wildly looking for a way out, "I received a message a few weeks ago, from that inn on Lake Calenhad. They—it said-"

I raise a hand to stop him, "They? What they? Are you talking about the Redcliffe knights, did they finally find him?"

"Yes, I think so," the fake Weylon smiles in relief, "So you can understand why I'm in such a rush to get everything cleaned up."

My mabari grumbles, not believing a word out of the man's mouth and I'm inclined to agree. "Do I really look that stupid to you? Is it the hair that makes people think that I'm a complete moron? I just spoke with one of the knights this morning and there wasn't a peep about Brother Genitivi being found."

The interloper's hands suddenly crackle with electricity, "I tried to dissuade you, but I should have known that a pompous bitch like you would never seen reason!"

"Morrigan!" Alistair booms, his own extremities taking on an azure hue.

The swamp witch leaps back, crashing into her lover's side, as Alistair releases a smite and robs the other man of his mana. The imitation Welyon slumps at the sudden loss of power, but draws a knife from his belt and rakes it across his palm.

Not waiting to see what he is planning, our two warriors charge at the newly revealed maleficar. Beside me, Morrigan hurls a stream of ice as she shrieks that blood magic is only used by the weak. I order Havoc to protect her and slink around behind the chaos to get a better shot.

Though I manage a few jabs, I don't have the chance to finish him, as the Qunari's blade rends the man's head from his shoulders. Throwing myself sideways, I avoid being struck by the sword, but am not so fortunate when it comes to the crimson fountain that sprouts from the wound.

I apathetically watch the twitching body drop to the stone, then wipe the gore from my eyes and do a damage assessment. "Dammit Sten, I just got this armor clean! Do you have any idea how long it's been since my armor smelled like something besides a slaughterhouse? Almost a year, that's how long! I've constantly been plagued with the smell of blood since..." I lose my voice, remembering how the scent of blood first began to cling to me.

"I may have found something of use," Morrigan banters as she and Alistair emerge from a back room, my husband lugging a large trunk.

"It looks like Genitivi's research on the location of the Ashes," he offers in way of further explanation, "We should be on our way before any of that one's friends come calling."

I give an absent nod, "It's a good thing we were planning on leaving this afternoon anyways, I don't want to have to explain this to Seargent Kylon after he so graciously overlooked our outlaw status."

The others agree and we easily strip the place of anything that could prove useful before wiping the worst of the day's gore from our gear. Only minutes have passed when we escape out the back door and race back to the relative safety of the inn where the rest of our party awaits.

Wynn is the first to spot us when we pad into the common area. "Where have you been and why do you all smell like you've taken a bath in blood?"

I pull my hood back and shrug, "Weylon is dead. We killed the man pretending to be him, the guy happened to be a blood mage, which is why we smell like we do, and we have to be out of the city gates in under an hour. The rest can wait."

Noticing my 'don't mess with me' expression, she scurries off to tell the others and gather her belongings. I make to follow, waving off the barkeep's offer of a drink, and try to ignore the feeling of being watched.

Alistair, swiftly packing the few things we didn't get stowed away this morning, gives me a quick glance as I enter our room. "Too many Templars in the area to have missed that fight. They can't sense blood mages, but I don't think we ought to take any chances. We're going to have to move fast though or we'll find ourselves locked in and getting searched before we can leave."

"Oh my..." A puffy eyed, red nosed Leliana gasps as she walks in, then turns on her heel, excusing herself to collect her gear.

"That answers my question," I mutter, hefting my pack on and patting my leg for Havoc to follow.

"Which question?" my beloved queries when he catches up.

"Whether she was still upset with me or not. Sod it all, let's get the hell out of here before we end up getting a tour of Fort Drakon."

**I know this is short, but if I kept the chapter the way it originally was, my fingers would have fallen off lol.**

**Translation**

J'ai essayé d'être miséricordieux Marjolaine, mais vous me donnez pas le choix.** -French-I tried to be merciful Marjolaine, but you give me no choice.**


	22. Chapter 22

**I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and reviews, it makes me feel as warm and fuzzy as Oghren's homebrew**

**I own nothing copyrighted.**

A few hours later, the sounds and smells of the capitol have dwindled down to the occasional aberration carried on the winters winds. Disturbed by the fact that my husband hasn't uttered a word, even to make a joke, since exiting the city, I swivel in my saddle and tap his arm until his brown green orbs shift my direction. "What's troubling you Ali?"

His shoulders sag woefully under his cloak, "It's just so hard to believe that all of this started nearly a year ago. With all of the running and the fighting we've been doing, it is still so fresh in my head...I should have been there Lex, maybe things would have have ended differently or-"

"Or you could have been just another corpse for the darkspawn to defile and pick clean. We've had this discussion before," I counter and resist flinching at the flare of anger in his eyes.

"You're right, I know that," he confesses after a few seconds, then reaches out for my hand and presses a kiss into my suede clad palm, "I can't help it though. I think that I'll always wonder if the king-or Duncan- might have lived if I'd been on the field with them. How much easier would this be for everyone if I'd managed to save them?"

Flickers of Duncan confiding in me how he looked to Alistair nearly brings me to tears, "We will avenge them Alistair. The Archdemon will fall."

"Duncan was from Highever you know, though he grew up in The Free Marches and Orlais," he continues in a more conversational tone a little while later, "That's why he was so set on making a trip there before the battle. I couldn't understand it at first since he'd already managed recruits from Orzammar, the circle, the Dalish, and even a city elf. I tried to talk him out of it actually but he'd said "Just one more Alistair" in that tone of his."

"He was coming for Ser Gilmore," I qualify with a haunted smile, "That man would have made one hell of a Grey Warden. My brother would make Ser Gilmore train with him when he and I started gearing up for one of our sparring matches. He was actually a little scared of me because my brother kept telling him I fought like a demon and was twice as tricky."

"He certainly had you pegged then," my companion grins and squeezes my hand, "Lex, I was thinking, maybe after all of this-"

I'm nearly torn from my saddle as Alistair is catapulted over his steed's head, which has suddenly sprouted an arrow.

"Bandits!" I shout, rolling off the back of my horse and drawing my blades.

I try to ignore the sharp pains coming from my now injured shoulder, dancing around one screaming warrior as he charges, then drive a dagger into his exposed neck. A second bellows in agony when I shear open the back of his leg with my sword. He retaliates with a wild swing and I try to throw my dagger up as a deflection, but it is jammed in the corpse's vertebrae, so I'm forced to drop to the snowy ground and kick him in the man bits. That tactic fails miserably on account of his codpiece though. He thinks he has gained the advantage so, as he raises his sword over his head, I drive my weapon through his chest, accidentally lodging both of my blades in dead men. With no time to waste, I do a quick scan of the area and, with no other alternative, make due with daggers from their belts as I join the fray again.

"Lex down!" Leliana commands over the sound of clashing blades as she lets an arrow fly.

I fall away from my third victim and listen to where her arrow hits, pinpointing my next target. I use the momentum I've gained to execute a backwards somersault, then shove my borrowed blades into the the man's stomach and push them in opposite directions. It dawns on me that the maneuver may not have been my smartest move when I suddenly have to dodge the bandit's escaping innards.

"Deadly warrior goddess indeed," Zevran chortles, materializing out of the snowfall to help me up. I should have known better than to think that he wouldn't notice my cringing when I move my shoulder. "Are you injured mia cara?"

A quick inventory belies nothing other than my pulled shoulder and a scrape on the cheek. "Nothing fatal. How did the others fare?"

"Everyone is relatively unscathed, aside from our mage with the magical bosoms, who took a lump on the head," he elaborates, still holding my hand as we make our way around the worst of the gore, "Most of the horses are lost though, having ran or been killed during the battle. Do not worry yourself though, the priest's documents are intact and still in our possession."

"Fantastic," I grumble in spite of my relief, "Now we get to traipse across Ferelden on foot. In the Maker forsaken snow no less."

"That may not be such a bad thing sorella. We will not attract as much attention if we are walking," the elf rushes to point out after I kick one of the corpses in the head, "With so many others traveling in the same fashion, it would be nothing for us to slip in amongst them if Loghain sends another welcoming party, yes?"

"Good point," I surmise after a moment of hesitation then, after thanking Leliana for recovering my weapons, I start browsing the landscape, "Without the horses we won't make it to that clearing we used last time before full darkness covers us, we're going to have to find someplace else to make camp."

The assassin murmurs his approval and trots off to aid in the scavenging as Alistair walks over, heavily favoring a leg. "Lex, are you alright? You look a little green."

"I'll be fine, it's just my shoulder. What did you do to yourself this time?" I query, dropping to my knees to disassemble his damaged cuisse, poleyn, and greave.

"One of them aimed a big sodding maul at my knee and I barely hide time to dive out of the way," the former Templar admits, cringing as I tire of fighting the buckles and take a dagger to the leather straps, "Lucky for me that it only ended up a glancing blow or I'd never get to shimmy down the darkspawn line."

"Especially in a dress," I snicker, dropping the leg armor to the side with a clang as he sits down, "I'm going to wrap this for now. Hopefully Wynne will be recovered enough to heal it by the time we make camp. For now though, I'm afraid you'll be sharing a horse with her."

"But Lex-" his voice takes on a plaintive whine so I stop that with a kiss before resuming my ministrations. "Alistair, what use would you be against the archdemon if you couldn't walk, let alone run?"

"Better yet, when will you learn to accept that our fearless leader is usually right?" our ginger haired songbird quips, slipping under one of his arms to help him stand.

"Sshh, don't tell her that, it will go straight to her head and there will be no living with her then," my husband mock whispers and winks at me before hobbling over to the horse that had been set aside for him and the senior enchanter to share.

"Kadan, I do not believe these humans to be simple highwaymen," Sten confesses, speaking directly to me for the first time since Alistair beat him senseless nearly a month ago, then shoves a rumpled scrap of parchment into my hands.

I unfurl the note and have to read it twice before the revelation sinks in. "Oh, for the love of," I walk over and hold the vellum up for my husband to read. "At least Zevran, who was trying to commit suicide by Grey Warden, had the decency to bring a group that had some skill, this...this is just insulting."

Alistair frowns at it for a minute, then shakes his head, "You're right, it is insulting. You look nothing like a troll, but they got your hair right! One thing though, if I may. Why does this say that your name is Lulu Mimbari?"

The group around us erupts into amused guffaws and I snatch the post out of his hands, "It was an alias I used from time to time when Fergus and I would sneak away to town. Hey, don't laugh! Fergus tried to talk me into going with Gracie Lou Bananahammock. I don't even know what a banana hammock is!"

A low thump startles me and I whip around to find both of my surrogate siblings rolling in the snow, laughing so hard that tears have sprung from their eyes. Confused, and a little hurt, I fold my arms over my chest and glare down at the duo, "Oh come on, it's not that funny."

"Banana! Hammock!" my Orlesian sister squeaks between fits of raucous giggles.

I peer up at Alistair, who shrugs an 'I don't get it either', then over to Wynne, who's head is buried in my husband's cloak while her shoulders bounce in silent mirth.

"Would someone please explain why a banana hammock is so sodding funny?" I growl, but no one that isn't laughing seems to know. Giving up, I finally grab the reins of our pack mule and begin plodding through the shimmering powder once more.

Half and hour later, their composure regained, Leli and Zev catch up to me. "Sorella, I beg your forgiveness, we meant no offense," the elf puffs, but his lover's snorting cackle does nothing to assuage my soured mood.

As I quicken my pace to get away from them, they hasten theirs to match it. "Lex, please give us a chance to explain," the bard pushes, repeating the sentiment until I cave and wave her on. "You see, in Antiva, there are these small clothes made for men..."

I am scarcely able to keep a grip on my reactions as they take turns elaborating on what the two innocuous words mean when put together in their culture. When they are finished, I'm quite proud of my self control, so of course Zevran has to go and ruin it.

Still grinning impishly, he drops an arm around my uninjured shoulder and pulls our heads closer, "You know, I have several pairs in my possession that I haven't had the pleasure of wearing yet. I would gladly give you a set for our dear Templar to model, if you wish to see them put to use..."

My overworked brain floods with visions of Alistair, clad in naught but a scrap of silk and some some strategically placed string, dancing the Remigold in front of the horde. Simultaneously inciting and disturbing, I actually trip as I break into laughter, forcing my Anitvan brother to catch me before my face collides with the frozen terrain.

Ironically enough, Alistair saves me from the humiliation of answering the Crow, when he unexpectedly announces that he sees a suitable place for us to stay the night.

**I'm sorry, I have no idea what got into me while writing this chapter, but my husband laughed his ass off, so I kept it :-)**

**Translation**

**cuisse—thigh armor**

**poleyn—knee guard**

**greave-shin armor**


	23. Chapter 23

**Woo-hoo! I'm on a roll right now!**

**BTW, this chapter, not so funny  
**

**Nope, don't own, so don't bother suing.**

"Alistair, take Zev and Wynne with you and circle around to the other side of the dragon. Havoc, protect Wynne," I glance down at the mabari as we huddle behind a smoldering boulder, "Sten, Leli, Morrigan, you're with me. Let's hit this bitch with everything we've got."

"May the Maker guide our hands," Leliana whispers, knocking her bow as the other group sneaks off, "I pray that he understands the death of such a magnificent creature."

"You and me both," I tap my blades together and grin in satisfaction at the metallic ring, "Now get your arse moving before we end up roasted."

None of us really wanted this-to kill a high dragon-when none had been seen in so long, but that bastard Kolgrim had called her down from her roost when we had refused to go along with his stupid cults plan to destroy the ashes in order to reincarnate their version of Andraste.

"Sten, her left leg!" I direct over the howling winds buffeting the mountain top, then tuck into a fluid tumble in order to avoid the creature's lightning fast jaws.

I come up just in time to see one of the Orlesian bard's flame arrows sink down to the fletching in one great eye. "Nice shot Leli!" I can't help but cheer before neatly slicing through the tendons holding the dragon's right shoulder together.

Morrigan, wielding Spellweaver, manically laughs as she finally gets a chance to use the skills given to her by the spirit in the Dalish ruins. I watch as she channels a bolt of lightning through the sword's tip then starts happily hacking away at the now scaleless spot on the serpent's side.

"Lex!" I hear my name called and turn just as a massive tail connects with my torso and sends me flailing into a pile of charred rubble.

My head collides with a rock as I land, sending a new bloom of pain through it. Spots dance behind my eyelids and the noise of battle fades in and out while I will my limbs into motion again. Sitting upright, I force my eyes open-the action incites a wave of nausea to roll over me-and unable to really move, I have to bend forward and expel my breakfast onto the stones between my feet. A cacophony of roars instinctively makes me jump to the ready, but the world tilts on me, making the scene of Alistair and Sten slamming their blades into the mythical beast's head and chest oddly amusing because they are doing it sideways.

The strength holding me upright sapped, the ground starts approaching at a rapid pace, but is halted by a wiry set of limbs snapping around my waist. "I have you, la mia cara sorella. Sie al sicuro adesso," Zevran soothes as he draws me to his chest, "Wynne will have you patched up and yelling at us again in no time."

"Oh Maker, is that a piece of her skull that I see?" Leliana, I think, asks from somewhere behind us.

"Shut your trap, you scatterbrained caterwauller," Morrigan snaps, her voice nearer, and I feel the gentle healing glow begin to work its way through my form.

"Leli, go keep an eye on Alistair, he isn't taking this well," Wynne instructs in her no nonsense tone and I hear the other woman's weary footsteps shuffle away.

"I'm fine," I try to say, but it comes out like a drunken slur. I take a painful swallow and try again. "I'm okay, tell Ali that I'm okay. I don't want him to worry..."

"We will tell him amore, but you must lie still so Nonna can see to your wounds," my elven brother reassures me and I let myself relax at his words.

"A month we spent traveling on foot, just so you could get yourself squished by a dragon," the elder mage chides in a tender voice as she begins tugging at something in my hair, "Have you no sense of self preservation at all?"

With a shaky hand, I poke myself in the chest, "Grey Warden, remember? We're not allowed to have a sense of self preservation, it defeats the purpose of our job..."

"Yes well, you are damned fortunate that the beast fell when it did, I don't know how long you would have survived your injuries otherwise," she admits, a touch of fear tainting her maternal tone as the the world begins to fade, "Rest now Alexa, you will feel better when you awake."

My next thought is about being too warm. The second is that Wynne was right, the pain I have now is a shadow of what I was feeling earlier. I experimentally crack one eye open and breathe a sigh of relief when I'm not hit with blinding pain. I lift my head to locate the source of abundant warmth and discover Havoc and Alistair flanking me, the mabari laying on his side and my husband dozing on his stomach, his head resting on his arms.

I try to snuggle closer to him, but my bladder screams in protest, so I literally force myself to wriggle out from between the breathing furnaces. My legs are a tad unsteady when I first stand, but I manage to gain control of them after a few seconds. Grabbing a spare chamber pot sitting close by, I stagger towards an ill lit recess, which turns out to be another, albeit empty, chamber.

I conduct my business and, after finding someplace to take care of things, I begin the short trek back to my warm bed. I haven't even left the room when the air shimmers around me and I come face to face with...

"Hello pup," the apparition, wearing my father's form, greets, "There are no words to express how happy I am to see you again."

"Father? Daddy?" I try to blink away the illusion but it refuses to dissipate, "Is it really you?"

He slowly nods his head once, "It's me pup, well, at least a part of me. I can feel the air around me, the stones at my feet, yet I know that I am no more than a spirit now."

"Oh daddy," I bawl and take a step closer, but he stops me with an outstretched hand, "You will not be able to touch me Alexa, I am as tangible as smoke."

Like the little girl I was not so many years ago, I sniffle through my tears and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my tunic, "Father, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault because I couldn't stop Howe, I couldn't save you-"

"Hush girl, none of this is your doing," the elder Cousland chides in his warm tenor, "Your mother and I knew what we were doing when we had Duncan carry you away. We do not blame you for living like we'd hoped you would."

An errant thought crashes through my discombobulated mind, smothering everything else, "What about Fergus? Is he with you?"

The shade shakes his head in denial, "I cannot say for certain Lex, though I can tell you that I have not encountered him."

"Then he has to be alive," _or a darkspawn. _No, not that, never that! I could never live with myself if my brother had been transformed into an abomination like that.

"I don't know, but I have no doubt that you will find him if what you say is true," my father reaches out again, this time with something dangling from his fingers, "Take this to remember us, my beautiful and courageous daughter, and let go of the guilt you carry."

I grasp the silver medallion and clutch it to my chest, "I love you daddy, don't leave-it's so hard without you and mom..."

For the first time since appearing, the light smile playing at my father's lips melts away, "I wish I could Alexa, but my time here has come and gone. I-and your mother-will always love you."

His insubstantial body dissolves back into the gloom and I lunge at him, only to fall and scrape my knees on the cold floor. "Daddy please don't leave me again!" I wail, folding myself over until my cheek is pressed to the stone, "I need you..."

I don't know how long I lay there, shivering and pleading with the empty air, but can barely bring myself to acknowledge Alistair when he gathers me in his strong arms and carries me back to our joined bedrolls.

I feel my husband's lips dotting feather light kisses along my hair, temples, and upon the silvery scar on my face. "Please tell me what happened love, I can't stand to see you like this...so broken..."

"That's because I am broken," I simper into his broad chest, "I couldn't make him stay with me..." Words suddenly seem so useless so I submit to my pain and grip the medallion tighter.

"It was just a bad dream Lex," he attempts to comfort me, but it's only alcohol poured onto the wound. I swallow back my anger, reminding myself that he means no harm, and bury my face in his neck.

He rocks me for a while, uttering words of solace, but I know when he nods off because his arms fall limply to the blankets. With his hold on me diminished, I slide out of his lap and pull on the silver chain, letting the circular pendant drop down alongside my wedding ring. Havoc, having felt me move, sleepily worms his bulk around until his back makes contact with my leg, then resumes his low snoring.

"It wasn't a dream," I mumble to no one in particular before finding a pair of pants and getting back up to search out my gear.

Once everything has been collected, I find a spot to work that won't wake everyone with my clanging, and begin meticulously repairing the broken straps and damaged rivets holding the leather together. My helmet is a total loss and the gorget is still dripping with ichor, so I chuck them into the junk pile and make a mental note to check with Bodhan once we're back in Haven. I resign myself to wearing a pair of rough cut leather boots, but at least my feet will stay warm with their fur trim.

Armor clean and mended, I move on to my blades, but the only thing that remains of them are shattered remnants. Somewhat glad that the dwarven merchant still carries my family's sword in his cart, I dig through the pile of salvaged weapons until I find a decent pair of daggers to use until I can replace them with something better.

By this hour though, the others have slowly begun rousing, so I retreat to my bedroll before Alistair can wake up in a panic because I've gone missing again.

"Not as sneaky as the Crow just yet my love," my beloved groggily mumbles as I settle down against his side.

"I'll just have to keep practicing then," I retort, doing my damnedest to keep my tone lighter than I feel.

"Do you want to talk about what happened last night?" he probes gently, lacing his fingers through mine, "It had to have been bad if it kept you up all night working on your armor."

"Not especially," I sigh and slump against his shoulder, "I know what I saw Alistair, but you'll probably just think that I've gone as loony as Leliana and her visions of the Maker."

"I would never," he brushes his lips against my bruised knuckles, "Besides Leli is more of an 'Ooh, pretty colors!' kind of crazy rather than a 'Muahaha! I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!' type, so she's not all bad."

"You are a strange man," I chuckle and scratch Havoc's belly with my free hand after he presents it to me.

"So people keep telling me. What does that say about you though, seeing that you're crazy about me?" his hazel orbs twinkle with mischief.

"Your answer is in your question Ali. I'm crazy. It's the only logical explanation," I shrug before elbowing him in the stomach, "Now get up, we have ashes to snatch."

Getting to the Ashes of Andraste proves to be a lot more difficult than simply grabbing a handful and running like hell. We have to answer riddles, fight our doppelgangers, figure out how to work a disappearing bridge, and get harassed by the creepy Guardian whom I have to threaten so he would leave my dysfunctional little family alone. All of this of course leads up to everyone in the group stripping down to their smalls and making a mad dash through a magical inferno.

Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana actually ask to be left alone for a time after we fill a pouch with the remains, so they can pray at the Urn, and they don't hear Sten when he actually cracks a joke about finding a holy waste bin. My mind, still a bit unhinged after encountering my father's specter, finds his quip exceedingly hilarious.

By the time we reach the bottom of the mountains, most of us are a little out of our minds though, which is how Zevran, Leliana, and Havoc end up following me back to Redcliffe while Alistair, treaty in hand, leads the others onward to Orzammar, with my promise to catch him up posthaste. I keep the painful truth to myself as to why I don't want my husband returning to his childhood home though.

_I'm not sure if the Ashes will actually cure his uncle._

**Translation**

**la mia cara sorella, sie al sicuro adesso-my dear sister, you are safe now**


	24. Chapter 24

**I own nothing Bioware (or any other copyrighted material).**

**Many thanks to those taking the time to read and hugs for the reviewers!**

As much as I miss my spouse and fellow misfits at night, when we're in camp, my decision to travel with a mabari and two rogues proved to be the right one, because it takes nearly two and a half weeks to trudge back to Redcliffe. It would have easily taken twice that if our entire party had attempted to make the journey.

Bann Teagan greets us at the portcullis leading to the castle, his expression wearied but hopeful. "Did you find them? Did you find the Ashes?" the nobleman inquires after the mundane pleasantries are out of the way, "I fear that my brother will not have long to live without some kind of miracle."

"I knew a man once, called himself Miracle Max," Zevran snickers over my shoulder, "Ugly bastard, but a fine mage."

I throw the elf a dark look before turning to bow to the troubled man, "We have found the Urn, now I suggest we make haste before something else crops up to delay us."

He eagerly agrees then practically herds us through the estate and into the Arl's bedchambers. Isolde, either too shocked by our abrupt arrival or finally having learned her lesson about letting her mouth outrun her brain when it comes to people with swords, only gives us a pert nod in greeting before ushering everyone out of the room.

"So Lex, how are we going to do this?" Leliana prods, taking painstaking caution as she opens the small chest we had stored the pouch in and pulls out the leather sack, "The Chantry doesn't exactly teach one how to heal people with the remnants of their prophet."

I untie the intricate knots in the string then reach in to get a pinch of the ashes, "I think I'm just going to sprinkle these in his mouth. You are going to pray your arse off-focus on the us not killing him part-and Zev is going to laugh at us."

None of us know what to expect after I dust Eamon's inert form with the grey powder, so when the man bolts upright and begins coughing like he's inhaled a lungful of smoke, we all jump at the sudden movement.

"Eamon!" Isolde is the first to recover, throwing her arms around his neck, "I thought I'd lost you forever!"

Her exclamation, having been heard by those hovering right outside the doors, sends the castle into chaos, and we can hear people shouting that the Arl has been saved by the Grey Wardens as they rush to spread the joyous news. Before I get a chance to speak with Eamon or Teagan though, we are shuffled out by one of the guards so that the family-Connor included, strangely enough-can be reunited in private.

Content to be forgotten, for the moment, the four of us sneak down to the kitchens and raid the Arl's larder before retreating to the chambers we'd used on our previous visit.

"Do you think that Arl Eamon will help us?" Leliana asks a few hours later, after we'd dined and gotten cleaned up.

I tear my eyes from the dancing fire in the hearth and shrug a shoulder, "I truly hope so. Alistair seems to trust the man implicitly, despite the fact that the Arl made him sleep out in the barn from the time he was old enough to tie his own boot strings, then pawned him off on the Chantry when his piece of ass got jealous. I have my share of doubts, but I'm trusting Alistair on this, and I'm asking you to do the same."

Zevran, whom I'd been nearly positive was sleeping on the sofa, opens an umber eye, "Alistair's intentions are always pure mia sorella, and while that is not always a bad thing, it can lead to some-let us say uncomfortable—-situations."

"So you think Eamon is going to betray us?"

He sits up, shaking his head, "You misunderstand me cara. I do not perceive to know what the esteemed Arl will do, I just have a feeling that his motives may not be as honest as Alistair would hope them to be."

"So we ought to prepare for Eamon to be a typical noble? Oh dear," the bard sighs and falls back into the chair, "I didn't bring the right kind of small clothes to deal with that kind of problem."

"Neither did I," our elven companion replies with a wry smile, "But then again I highly doubt our Templar friend would approve of the Arl being seduced into helping our cause."

"And on that disturbing note, I'm going to bed. Try not to pick the castle clean while I'm asleep, especially if this is going to be as bad as Zev's gut is telling us it will be," I chortle a little uneasily and try not to trip on the blanket wrapped around me as I shuffle to my room.

As it turns out, the four of us are left to our own devices until late the next morning when Teagan bursts in, looking a little wild eyed, and announces that his brother wishes to speak with us. Since we hadn't packed anything more than the fundamental necessities, we are presented to the nobleman wearing our armor and cloaks.

"You are the trio who saved my life?" the man asks, looking aged well beyond his years, and is startled when my warhound woofs in protest, "My apologies, the quartet who rescued me from my grim fate. Teagan had told me that my former ward traveled with you, but I do not see him. Tell me, where is Alistair, if he is not at your side?"

Biting back a flair of annoyance at the sympathetic looks of my adopted siblings, I give a slight bow, "Alistair normally does accompany us Ser, but we are attempting to garner aid against the Blight with the ancient treaties signed by the people of Ferelden after the last Blight was ended. At my command, he took the remaining members of our party and journeyed on to Orzammar to enlist the aid of the dwarves."

"Why would you do this?" Of course he would ask that question.

I carefully pick my words before answering. "I did not have absolute faith in the Ashes, as he did, and did not wish to inflict any more pain on him had they failed to restore your health. He has lost so much in his life Ser, I had simply hoped to spare him more loss, if for just a little while longer."

"Very thoughtful of you," he says absently and I can feel his penetrating gaze shift back to my face, "You are so familiar, what be your name Warden?"

"I am Lex," I qualify with a blank expression, hoping he doesn't recognize me from my old life, "We give up all surnames and titles when we join the Grey Wardens, so asking for either would be moot."

"All titles and surnames? That seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" I can tell by the light in his eyes that my husband's royal bloodline is the propagator of this inquiry.

"Not at all Ser, it merely makes all Wardens equal. There are no such things as race, creed, or title to define us. What we do and the blood we shed for the sake of Thedas is more than enough. Politics and theology are trivialities when one is tasked with stopping the darkspawn," his leer turns almost hostile at my last words, confirming my earlier suspicions.

"And what if Ferelden needed them in another capacity?" the elder noble sits forward in his chair, "What would you say then?"

I shrug a shoulder, determined not to let his probing to unsettle me, "The darkspawn are not just a threat to Ferelden Ser, so our duty supersedes those boundaries. We live, and die, to rid the world of darkspawn. Everything else is fleeting, in comparison."

Teagan, sensing the rising tension as his brother and I glare at one another, moves to break our line of sight, "Thank you for explaining that Lex, it was most enlightening. Rainesfere is honored to be standing with the noble Grey Wardens against the Horde."

"Thank you Bann Guerrin," I bow to the younger man, my gratitude sincere, "The Wardens, and all of Ferelden, are in your debt. Your courage will not soon be forgotten."

"The Arling of Redcliffe also pledges itself to your cause, a meager recompense for saving my life, "Eamon booms, not to be outdone by his much more charismatic younger sibling, "I have already dispatched messengers across the Bannorn, calling the nobles to gather for a Landsmeet. Loghain and the Blight must be addressed without delay."

I ignore how Loghain has been given rank over the darkspawn invasion and give him a nod, "My thanks Arl, on behalf of the Wardens, any aid against the Horde are gladly welcomed. I must beg my leave though, my group and I have a lot of ground to cover if we are to join the others in Orzammar."

He nods and waves us away, mumbling that the prayers of Redcliffe go with us. After we back out and take a few seconds to pull our hoods up, we suddenly hear them talking.

"Eamon, I swear that you will regret this if you try to follow through with this hare-brained plan of yours to put Alistair on the throne! You heard Lex, they give up all titles and surnames when they join the order! I know that you are hoping to pull his strings once he's crowned, but do you really think that woman would allow you to do that to her comrade, even if I would?"

"Now is not the time for this battle sorella," Zevran hisses under his breath as he and Leliana grab my arms and literally drag me in the direction of the barn, where our new horses await, "You do not seek a bear out in its den, you wait until he is out of his sanctuary, then strike."

"You know he's telling you the truth Lex," the bard defends before I can formulate an argument, "And you also know that Alistair would be furious if you disposed of the cretin before talking to him about it."

So instead of rushing back in and murdering the man who wants to turn my husband into a puppet king, I climb into the saddle and set a breakneck pace towards the dwarven kingdom.

The trip is better, and worse. Better because of the horses and a lucky break in the weather, worse because the unseasonably warm temperatures bring out the darkspawn in droves. By the time we reach the hilltop entrance, pay a merchant an exuberant amount of money to care for the horses, find out Sten's sword is back in Redcliffe-where we just sodding came from- and dispose of a gang of bounty hunters, we are in an extraordinarily bad mood when a contingent of Loghain's men demand that the dwarven guards kill us, then attack us when the men refuse to do their dirty work.

The stout guards, having been informed of our expected arrival by the others, wave us through without so much as a second glance after warning us of King Eldrin's death and subsequent battle for the crown.

The city itself is...confining. I've never been one afraid of enclosed spaces, but all that rock hanging overhead, just waiting for a reason to fall on our heads-

"Lex, over here!" Alistair's voice booms over the low roar of the Commons and I instinctively stand on my toes to seek him out.

It takes only moments to find the features of my beloved, towering over the throng and clad in new plated armor. My feet are in motion, leading me to him, before I consciously make the decision to run. His arms raise as I draw near, so it is easy for him to catch me as I leap at him, then snake my arms and legs around his bulky physique. I audibly whimper when his limbs envelop me, but the noise is muffled by our lips being emphatically reacquainted .

"Never...leave...me...again," my beloved commands between kisses, one hand finding its way into my hair and drawing me ever closer.

"Never," I vow automatically, lost in his scent, his touch, his _everything_.

"Are they going to be like this all the time?" an unfamiliar man asks in a rough voice, "If so, Imma going to need to make a pit stop before we leave tomorrow. Gotta pick up something to grease the old hammer with. My armor's gonna chafe me enough as it is."

"Oghren," Alistair groans, tearing his mouth from mine and easing me back to the ground, "I didn't need to hear that."

"I could stand to hear a little more," Zevran snickers cheerily, though his cinnamon orbs are diverted from my husband and my animated reunion just like the others.

With cheeks now flushed by more than the magma heated air, I turn and gaze down at the dwarven warrior, "You might want to double up then, some of us have been known to wake the whole camp with our activities."

He chuckles and flips a coin to Morrigan, "Yer right, she's just as fiery as you said she'd be. Got an arse you could bounce a copper off of too! I think I'm gonna like travelin' with you surfacers, yer exciting!"

"He's joining us?" Leliana mumbles in disbelief, the hand covering her nose skewing her words, "He smells like a rotting brewery!"

"Ah, you must be the songstress who's one Archdemon short of a blight," Oghren answers, openly appraising the Orlesain woman's slim form, "At least a bag won't be necessary."

"What would it need a bag for?" a voice that carries the undercurrent of stone grating against stone prods and I look over to see what I thought to be a statue peering down at the dwarf.

"Ah yes, I suppose another introduction is in order. Lex, this is Shale, we liberated it, erm, her? him? From a little town called Honnleath on our way here," the former Templar elaborates, indicating the golem with violet stones pulsing intermittently through its structure, "Long story short? We got its control rod from a merchant, fought some demons and the like, dealt with a demonically possessed cat, got the activation words, saved Shale, and came straight here."

"You forgot the part where it stomped on a chicken," Morrigan declares with a devilish smirk playing at her dark lips, "Too bad you weren't next on the list."

"Damnable feathered fiends," the golem mutters before scanning the space above us, "Nearly as evil as the darkspawn."

"Right," I comment, a bit unnerved with the concept of a talking and walking statue, then shift my attention back to the group, "Have you gained their support yet? Please tell me we can leave now."

"Of course tis not that simple," Morrigan snorts with no small amount of irritation, "It seems that the heir apparent needs us to fetch the smelly one's wife in order to break a stalemate concerning who gets to play king next."

"Someone please tell me that I heard her wrong," I plead, then drop my head onto one of Alistair's shiny pauldrons when no one answers, "Unfuckingbelievable! Can't these people do anything for themselves? How did Thedas survive before we came along to save their arses?"

"Maker only knows," my fellow Warden murmurs, then grasps my hand and squeezes it, "We were getting ready to head back to the inn for the night so we can get an early start tomorrow. We've been told that the Deep Roads are teeming with darkspawn, so we are going to have to stay vigilant down there."

"At least this is the last treaty and Eamon will no doubt be keeping an eye on things while we're playing messenger," I admit, earning a bright smile from my Templar, "He told me, just before we left, that he had sent word to the other nobles, calling a Landsmeet."

"Good. Now the sooner we find this woman, the sooner we can get back to hunting the Archdemon," Sten mutters as my husband lowers his lips to mine once more.

**Meh, not satisfied with this chapter, but after three rewrites of the entire thing, I gave up. I'm sorry if it's not my best.**


	25. Chapter 25

**This chapter refused to be written until I gave up on the Deep Roads and moved beyond it. I'm sorry about this, as I was truly looking forward to writing it, but Writer's block is a fickle bitch.**

**Bioware owns all things Dragon Age, I just like playing with their creations.**

_Broodmother..._

Even days after crowning Bhelen the next king and returning to a thawing Ferelden, it's still difficult to wrap my mind around the grotesque breeding machine that was once a dwarven woman named Laryn. If I had not seen her, had not heard the corrupted Hespith's twisted and heartbreaking tale, I may not have killed Oghren's wife and destroyed the Anvil. Branka's unwavering obsession with Caridin's masterpiece had destroyed so many innocents though and in my head, if only for a heartbeat, there was a greater evil in this world than the Archdemon.

It wasn't until after we had the crown in hand and were marching back to the dwarven city that much darker thoughts began to invade.

Is this why there are so few female Wardens? Is it our fate to slowly evolve into broodmothers as our taint progresses? Does the same corruption that prevents us from procreating as Wardens make us better incubators when-if- we turn? If so, it's no wonder Duncan was reluctant to share the history of his order with me.

These same thoughts are exactly what prompted me to extract a promise out of my husband. A solemn vow to end my life should I start showing signs of advanced corruption. I'd rather be dead than some sick creator of darkspawn progeny. Fighting back a shudder, I lift my head from my knees and seek out Alistair as he, Sten, and Oghren practice, each of the trio sharing the techniques of their preferred fighting style.

I can't help but admire his physique as he swings his borrowed great sword in a graceful arc, miming the Qunari's movement. A year ago he was in amazing shape but now, with muscles hardened from our near daily battles and the last roundness betraying his boyhood as a chubby child matured into the more chiseled form I am familiar with, Andraste herself would have trouble finding fault with my god of war.

A smile creeps across my lips as he brushes his hair back from his face, the tips of his honeyed locks brushing his broad shoulders. He had started growing it out in an effort to distance himself from the description Loghain had given every bandit and cutthroat in his employ, but seemed to genuinely enjoy the new style once he realized my affinity for running my fingers though it at night after we made love.

My lover's tunic strings slip loose when he bows to Sten and the griffon tattoo he'd gotten over his heart in Orzammar peeks out. Instinctively I drop a hand to my left calf and touch its mate, my grin widening. The motions are not lost on Alistair, who beams his trademark smile and comes strolling over after excusing himself from the other warriors. "Copper for your thoughts my love?" he asks as he eases himself to the ground beside me.

"Just going over the past few months in my head and trying to decide what to do next," I weakly evade, well aware that we'd spent almost two months trapped underground so the subjects dominating my thoughts are quite limited.

"I won't let Eamon talk me into making a bid for the crown," he answers, betraying what has been plaguing him for the last week, "Our fight against the Archdemon is too important to just give up and rule a country over."

"I know dear," I assuage my beloved as I wrap my cloak around him and snuggle into his side, "But remember that we-"

"That we know nothing of his little plan," he finishes for me, "Geez, my memory isn't that bad yet Lex. So now that we have my errant troubles out of the way, what has you chewing your lip to pieces? Did Wynne say something to you again?"

The senior enchanter and I hadn't been on speaking terms since the first night we'd been back on the surface, the entire debacle attributed to her imbibing too much wine then deciding to spend two hours lecturing me about my relationship with Alistair and how it might be better to end our dalliance now before things grew much more complicated. My self control had failed me amidst her high and mighty attitude and I'd retaliated by snatching my ring from its resting place then shoving it in her face while screaming about how I'd doubted things could be any more complicated between my husband and I since we were in the middle of a Blight and trying to stop an Archdemon from taking over Thedas. She'd spit in my face and shrieked that I was nothing but a spoiled, selfish child who had only chained Alistair to me because I thought it was the fastest way to get back my easy life now that my family was dead.

Sten's arm is still healing where he barely managed to deflect the dagger I'd thrown at her.

"No, she hasn't said anything, at least to me," I qualify, my fingers tracing the edges of his wedding band, "But she is still giving me the evil eye whenever she sees me looking her way."

For a few moments he simply watches me, then the glint in his eyes turns mischievous, "Well, I could always give her a legitimate reason to glare by kissing you senseless out here in front of her."

A chuckle escapes me as he bends down and starts nuzzling my neck, "What happened to that adorably innocent Chantry boy I met so long ago?"

"He discovered how much fun being naughty can be," the former Templar smirks, drawing back and pulling both of us to our feet, "But I'm fairly sure that I could dig him up for you though, if you're feeling nostalgic."

"I'd rather resume our discussion on lamppost licking techniques and then try out the ones that still make you blush," I purr, suddenly wanting to do nothing but drag him back to our tent and have my way with him.

His hazel eyes darken with lust and I feel his strong hands clamp down on my hips, "Maker's breath, I am a lucky man. You know, we still have a few hours before dinner, we could-"

"Blasted flea bitten canine! How many times do I have to tell you that I've no interest in your slobbery so called gifts?" Morrigan trills from across camp, puncturing our amorous bubble in the process, "Alexa, kindly retrieve your mongrel before I turn him into something useful...like a rug!"

Alistair gives me one last kiss, then relinquishes his hold on me, "Go and save Morrigan from whatever half chewed rodent Havoc gave her this time, but we _will_ be continuing this discussion this later."

"Maybe you ought to inform Zev and Leli that it's their turn to cook dinner then so they can get a head start on it, that will give us even more time tonight," I brazenly suggest, then jog across the encampment to find my four legged best friend cowering before the irate swamp witch.

Upon seeing me, Morrigan jabs a finger at a lump of damp fur laying outside of her shelter, "That mangy beast put a masticated rabbit in my underclothes, tell him that I do not want it, since he refuses to listen to me."

"Aw Morri, don't be like that. He just wanted to give you a gift," I say with a perfectly straight face while Havoc buries his blocky head in my side and emits a mournful whine, "See, you're hurting his feelings by rejecting it."

"Oh no I'm not," the dark haired mage counters, but the amusement lacing her voice neutralizes her stern visage, "He's just being manipulative. I should know, I do it too. Besides, if he was serious about impressing me, he would have brought back a fat deer for us to dine on instead of a single scrawny jackrabbit."

At her statement, the war hound leaps to his feet and charges headlong into the underbrush, intent on fetching the wild woman her desired prize. I wait until his stubby tail is long out of sight before grinning at her. "Well played. That was completely underhanded, mind you, but I have to give credit where credit is due."

"Mayhap, but it keeps him busy and saves us from another night of trail rations or your husband's dreadful rabbit stew," she shrugs one thin shoulder as her amber gaze grows thoughtful, "Perhaps you could reward his efforts with some of the bones after we're done stripping the meat."

"So much for your cold hearted bitch routine," I laugh, then have to dodge a half-hearted slap, "Don't worry, I won't tell Alistair that you have something other than a yawning black pit for a soul."

She allows herself the smallest of grins before motioning for me to follow her into her tent. All humor is cast aside though, when she lays a hand on her mother's book, "I've finally finished reading it, and I must confess that it is not what I thought."

"So Flemeth really does bathe in the blood of children and slow roast her lovers before eating them? I thought we knew that part already," I jest, but reach out and take her hand as the woman's face pales, "What did you find? It must be epic if it's disturbing even you."

Morrigan doesn't reply immediately, instead choosing to brew us a cup of tea and serves it with trembling hands before answering. As we sip our tea, she explains to me her mother's unnatural method of extending her lifespan via possessing the body of her current "daughter" when the girl reaches the pinnacle of her powers. The apostate then admits that in the journal, she found references to spells that involved Grey Wardens and/or their blood, but cannot piece together what they could be with the volume she has at her disposal.

"I think mother wanted me to accompany you and Alistair in order to gain your trust so when-" her head dips and yet I still notice a few drops of liquid roll down her face, "So when it came time to possess me, it would be easier for her to execute whatever plans she has. I am so sorry Alexa, you must know that I never intended to betray your trust like this, the one person in the world I can, and do, call friend. It is because of this attachment though that I will be leaving on the morrow to go and confront her."

The witch's proclamation makes the hair on my neck stand on end. "No! You cannot hope to defeat her and walk away unscathed, do you? If that abomination learns that you have even an inkling of what she intends, what is to keep her from taking you over then and there?"

"I have little choice in this matter Alexa," Morrigan's voice hardens as she straightens herself and lifts her eyes back to mine, "I do not expect you to give me an iota of trust after what I have revealed to you, let alone any aid. I may be unworthy of it in light of recent events, but your friendship means a great deal to me, so I will amend this problem myself. But I swear to you here and now that if I cannot defeat her, I will find a way to destroy us both before she can overtake me."

"No Morrigan. You have such a convoluted idea of what being a family is," I shake my head in sympathy and grab her hand, "You will not do this alone. We will find a way to free you and we will do it together."

"Family, you say?" one dainty eyebrow lifts in question before she grins, "Fine, I shall acquiesce to becoming one more sister that follows you around, but do not expect me to claim any familial connection to that uncouth lout you insisted on shackling yourself to."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I snicker and get to my feet, "You do know that this means you will be part of the excursion following Levi to Soldier's Peak after we meet with Eamon, yes? Whichever way any of this pans out, I want you as far away from that nutty old bat as I can get you when it comes time to deal with her."

"A wise maneuver, I can see the logic. Spoken like a true leader as well," I'm surprised at her unexpected concession, I was readying myself for a long, drawn out argument, "Are you still so dead set against you and your fellow Warden taking the throne? It seems to me that Ferelden might be better off with someone like you leading it."

I roll my eyes and push back the canvas flap separating us from outside, "Positive. Ali would be able to bankrupt the entire kingdom in a year's time simply by indulging in his unholy obsession with cheese."

"Good point," she giggles, yes giggles, as I step out into the evening air.

**The damn thing wanted to end here and I'm too fed up to fight it right now, sorry if I disappoint.**


	26. Chapter 26

**I still don't own.**

"Are you honestly considering tracking down _the _Flemeth and killing her simply because Morrigan asked you to?" Alistair growls after I finish explaining the new plan to our group.

"She didn't ask me to do anything Alistair," I counter with an equal amount of force, "I refuse to let that bitch treat Morrigan like a shiny new set of armor. _She is my friend_, and I won't let her face this alone, not when I can do something about it."

"But what if this is just some part of a nefarious plan to separate us? If-Maker forbid-something goes wrong, Flemeth will still get her Grey Warden blood and I'll be left to fight the archdemon alone!" his amber and jade pools flare with his fury, "Besides, this does nothing to help us end the Blight."

"Now you sound like Sten," I growl, undecided if I want to smack him or stomp off like a petulant child, "Gee, I can't understand why I couldn't see it from your perspective before. Oh yeah, that's right, it's because I can't shove my head that far up my own ass! I realize it does nothing, except make sure that one of the only people who are willing to help us on our suicide mission doesn't suddenly get possessed by their crazy mother and start murdering us!"

Off to our right, I hear Zevran mumble something to the rest of the part and they begin to move off-even Oghren- though that one is largely because Leliana has a firm grip on his whiskers.

"I get it, you trust that crazy swamp witch with your life-though only the Maker knows why-but you'll have to excuse me if I don't share your sentiment," the almost Templar crosses his arms menacingly and pours all of his anger into the glare he aims at me, "But you're the one in charge-not that you'd ever let us forget it-so I guess I'll just have to follow your insane orders and pray that you don't get us all killed before we get rid of the archdemon."

His words hit as if he had physically reached out and struck me. Somehow I manage to maintain the semblance of composure and give him a curt nod. "Good, at least you remember your place in the pecking order. Tomorrow you will take Morrigan, Leliana, and Zevran and head into Redcliffe to speak with the Arl. Take Havoc with you, I don't want him to get hurt. I will leave it to your discretion on whether you want to wait for us to catch up before moving on to Soldier's Peak with Levi." Before he can speak, I shrug on my baldrics and secure my weapons, "I will be taking first watch, good night Alistair."

He calls my name twice as I storm out to the edge of our encampment to begin walking the perimeter, but a hostile growl from my mabari prevents him from pursuing. As I pass Wynne's pavilion, the self satisfied smirk on her face is unmistakable, that is until the tip of one of my daggers buries itself in the tree next to her head.

Nearly an hour passes before another, smaller, figure materializes out of the encroaching shadows. "Ha paura di perdere la moglie, mia sorella, surely you can see that?"

I sigh and lean against a tree, my ire abandoning me, only to be replaced by a numb weariness, "We're all afraid of something mio fratello, but as a Grey Warden, he nor I have the luxury of letting those fears prevent us from doing what needs to be done."

"I do not deny that you make a good argument Lex, but although you and I," he waves a hand between us, "have been raised to live and think that way, your fellow Warden was not. I am impressed with the maturity Alistair has gained since I've joined you, but I feel it is my duty to point out that despite all he has endured, Alistair is still an idealist who believes that everyone can have their happy ending."

"Except for Morrigan, it seems," I counter with a disgusted snort, "And I was dumb enough to believe that they were actually getting along now. I should have known better."

"I do not think this is solely about Morrigan Lex. For your marito, this has become his worst nightmare," the elf snakes a hand out and takes my own, "The moment the two of you made your vows of matrimony, you all but ceased being a Grey Warden in his eyes and became the most treasured thing in his entire existence, the center of his universe. He still sees himself as a Warden, but he is also your husband now, a title that even I can see he cherishes more than anything else in this Maker forsaken world."

"But Zev, just because we're married, it does not mean that everything else can be shoved aside when it's inconvenient to deal with," I argue despite feeling more foolish with every minute that ticks by, "We must be able to perform our duties as Grey Wardens first and foremost."

"Like your vendetta against Rendon Howe? Where does that fit into your Warden duties?" The question keeps me immobilized for so long that eventually my adopted sibling kisses me on the cheek and retreats back to camp.

When I finally propel myself back into motion, no one dares venture close enough to strike up a conversation, though at one point during my shift I pause to warm myself near the fire and find my dagger resting on my pack.

Somewhere around midnight Alistair emerges from our tent, battle ready and looking like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. My four legged companion rumbles a drowsy warning towards the former Templar as the man shuffles over, but is otherwise too tired to care about our disagreement.

"I'm sorry Lex," he blurts out in a loud sigh before I get a chance to speak, "It's just the thought of you fighting a centuries old witch-abomination-thing, it scares the hell out of me. I was wrong to pull the whole leader card on you too. I know that you are just doing what you thi-"

I silence him with a hand over his mouth, "Alistair, please shut up. I was a complete and utter bitch for not listening to your concerns, so I'll accept your apology if you accept mine as well."

He kisses my fingers before pulling my hand down to rest over his heart, "It's already forgiven my love. Now can we just chalk this entire mess up to frayed nerves and move on to the more steamy bits of making up?"

I reach for the buckles on his breastplate just as I spot Leliana crawling out of her tent, "Fine, off with the armor then!"

My beloveds grin is impish until he also notices the bard, then he drops his hands from me and chuckles, "Har-har, you got me, calling my bluff like that. You erm, might want to head to bed now before I do something decidedly ungentlemanly."

"And why does it have to be a bluff Ali?" I challenge, pressing myself against his metal clad body seductively, "You already know what it does to me when you forget your manners."

"How can they go from wanting to strangle each other to nearly rutting in public so quickly?" I hear Leliana mutter, causing both of us to break into raucous laughter.

"Go, sleep, before she decides to start quizzing you," Alistair advises after bestowing a tender kiss on my lips, "I don't feel like digging another one of your daggers out of a tree tonight. I love you."

I repeat the sentiment and, suddenly dead tired, drag myself into our shelter. It takes the last of my energy reserves to divest myself of my gear and curl up on Alistair's still warm bedroll.

_The smell of charred flesh almost, but not quite, overwhelms the stomach turning stench of nearby darkspawn. The winds billowing across the bannorn carries with it the agonized cries of the tortured or dying. __I reach for my weapons only to discover that I am clad in the same deep emerald gown my mother had literally forced me to wear for the grand ball her and my father had held in honor of my sixteenth birthday. A single trembling breath alerts me that the stiletto that I'd hidden in my bodice that night is also curiously absent._

_ "This is another trick," I surmise aloud then feel my dress give way to my more comfortable leathers and the familiar weight of my swords solidify on my back._

_ My body hums sickeningly just before the blue-violet flames of the archdemon streak across the soot blackened sky._

_ "Will you accept the offer he gives?" A contorted Uldred/Howe abomination queries from my right while dipping one clawed hand into the gaping midsection of a weeping Leliana._

_"I don't make deals with demons," I move to draw my blades once more, but they are now held fast by a pair of miniature Wynne's as they chide that I will never be good enough for Alistair no matter what I do because I couldn't even save my family._

_ "You cannot save anyone mia sorella," Zevran chortles from his seat next to Loghain, who is filling his tankard with blood that is streaming from a slice in a hanging Alistair's throat._

_ "So much for that one becoming king," Morrigan mocks, Sten behind her nodding in agreement as her form shifts between her own and her mother's._

_ The corrupted dragon on the hill keens again and Oghren-the crown of his head missing to allow Shale to scoop out some of the gray matter-staggers to his feet and runs headlong into a wall of rotting corpses._

_ "NO!" I scream in defiance even as my legs give out and I collapse to the greasy dirt._

_ "Then yield to me," a sensual masculine voice coos and I lift my head to see the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on._

_ His blue black hair hangs loose to his waist and stormy violet eyes burn into my soul. Armbands sculpted into the shapes of dragons cover his naked well toned arms, and an odd medallion rests on his unclothed chest. With only a pair of low slung and loose fitting cotton pants to cover the rest of him, I can find no obvious flaws in his physique, yet I cannot ignore the waves of sheer _wrongness_ that are rolling off of him._

_ "Urthemiel," I hiss then spit at the ground, "Once called the dragon of beauty. You must be scared indeed, to show yourself to a Grey Warden like this. I'm flattered you would go to such lengths for little old me."_

_ "You should be Alexa, as I do not usually make a habit of parleying with those who have sworn to kill me," he extends a hand to aid me as I stand, but I ignore both it and the sounds of the morbid dinner party still going on behind us._

_ "You wish to discuss the terms of your surrender? Fantastic! First I'm going to need all of your precious darkspawn to commit suicide, then you'll have to kneel down so I can chop off your head," I respond cheekily to mask my unwavering terror, even going so far as to throw a wink at the monster._

_ "Fergus did warn me that you were quite a fiery temptress," the abomination chortles while waving away the grim scene around us, "He also said that it would not be easy to convince you of my sincerity. Nevertheless, he and the rest of your family will be pleased to hear that I've found you."_

_ "You must think me royally stupid if you expect me to believe that drivel," my laughter is hollow as I remember the last time I uttered similar words, "My family is dead, Rendon Howe butchered all but one of them. I was there you daft bastard."_

_ "But they don't have to be," the demon implores with what is no doubt fabricated genuineness, "And not only can I give them back to you, I can infuse you with the power to give Rendon Howe the punishment he deserves for what he did. All you have to do is submit and give up this futile attempt to stop me." _

_ Feeling a bit punch drunk, I pretend to weigh my options-though I refuse to let my gaze linger on him-then sigh with false solemnity, "So does this mean that you don't agree with the terms of your surrender? I can be flexible you know. I'll let Alistair take your head so that you don't have to get on your knees and I'd happily settle for all of your monsters offing each other instead of themselves. It sounds like quite the deal to me, but-"_

_ "SILENCE!" Urthemiel bellows, his human form shredding and falling away as his true form forces its way back to the surface, "You are a fool Warden, and you will watch me feast upon the flesh of your companions, especially your idiot husband, before I let you die."_

_ "Watch your mouth you overgrown lizard!" I shriek in retaliation, pulling my swords free from their scabbards, "He might be an idiot sometimes, but he's still _my_ idiot! You want one? Go find your own, preferably down in the Pit with the rest of your Marker forsworn childer!" _

_ The monstrous reptile rears back, preparing to unleash its toxic breath weapon, but the tainted flames only hit empty air as I am abruptly torn from the Fade._

I throw myself upright with a gasp and collide with a much larger body, the scent of it alone revealing that it belongs to none other than my beloved husband and fellow Warden. I wrap my arms around him and press my face to his thick neck, "Oh Ali, it was horrible..."

"Bad dreams my dear?" he inquires though the violent quivering of my body easily gives him the answer he seeks, "Me too Lex, me too."

Nothing else needs to be said, but I doubt that even an army of Shale's could pull us apart as we cling to another another and wait for the dawn to come.

**Yeah, I so thought it was time to join Lex in one of her messed up dreams. How did I do? Was it scary enough or did I simply prove to all of you just how brain damaged I am? **

**Translations**

**Ha paura di perdere la moglie, mia sorella—He is afraid of losing his wife, my sister**

**marito-husband**


	27. Chapter 27

***rubs hands together * Now let's hope this works out lol**

**Oh, and I still don't own!**

"Are dragon-witches always this overtly...messy when they expire?" Shale grimaces while removing a sliver of raw meat from her shoulder.

"I think that only happens when you shove things that go boom down their throats," I chuckle evilly as I stuff Flemeth's true grimoire into my pack then buckle it closed, "Then again she's also the first creature I've ever had the pleasure of blowing up so I have nothing to compare it to. Ask Zevran when we make it back to the others, he might know."

"Yer gonna have to buy the elf somethin' pretty fer making you bring those bombs with us Warden," Oghren huffs wearily, his body still recovering from his bout of berserker rage, "Maybe a bejeweled chastity belt this time instead of a regular one, like you gave him before."

The pair of Antivan boots I'd came upon in Haven jumps to the forefront of my mind. I'd been waiting for the perfect moment in which to bestow them on my elven brother, and it's finally come. Zev will have his boots within an hour of our return.

"Meh, I think he's had enough ribbing over the first one I gave him Oggie, so I've got something else in mind this time. Something that I know will mean a great deal to the Crow," I throw the dwarf a wink and shoulder my pack, "And don't worry, you won't have to share the good stuff this time. Now let's get our arses out of here, I'm starving!"

"I think Sten ought to be put on one of the horses," Wynne announces as we make our way over to where the equines are tethered, "He still has a small fracture in his skull behind his ear and, since we've run out of lyrium, I've not enough energy to heal him at the moment."

I glance over the irritable Qunari, who is currently resting against a willow tree with his eyes closed. The giant had unfortunately been caught in Flemeth's jaws during the fight and she had shaken him to and fro, until he stabbed her in the nose. It was a move that had incited her to fling him across the swamp and through the wall of her hut. His head injury had occurred when that big head of his crashed into the massive chest inside-but on the plus side he'd also shattered the box with the force of the collision.

"That's fine. If he needs any help, I'm sure me and Oghren could toss him onto his horse," I turn and whistle for my own steed then wait for her to come over before retrieving a sack of poultices, "I have these left, if you think they could help."

"Couldn't hurt at this point," the elder mage replies then hobbles off to check on our fallen giant.

As I swing up into the saddle, a dull thud reverberates through the dense fog, so I spin the horse around...and spot Shale grinding her foot into a bloody patch of dirt while grumbling about feathered monstrosities. I raise an eyebrow in question when she looks my direction, but her only response is a nonchalant shrug before moving into line behind the mounts.

It takes the better part of two weeks to return to Redcliffe because of our injuries-and more darkspawn attacks. Ser Perth informs us when we arrive that because the highway crossing the southern bannorn is impassable, Arl Eamon had insisted that Alistair and the others escort them along the northern road. The same road that passes Soldier's Peak-and Highever-on its path to Denerim.

He did figure out who I used to be and probably wanted to annoy Alistair with it, the rat bastard.

After resupplying and trading our wearied horses for new ones, we leave the village before nightfall.

Our progress is slower than mud though, because we accidentally get ourselves embroiled in the civil war going on between Loghain's supporters and a number of banns and lesser nobles who refuse to bow to the interloper. I can't help but see the battles as a blessing in disguise though, as we somehow manage to gain the support of nearly a dozen nobles along the way.

Still a day's hard ride from the ancient home of the Grey Wardens, I find a lump of raw ore as we break camp. I almost toss it away, but recall the master smith Wade, and decide to wrap it in a swath of leather before stowing it in my bag next to the crazy apostate's journal. I just get stashed and situated on my roan mare when the excited howl of a mabari shatters the morning's serene silence.

"Could it be Havoc?" Wynne queries, to which I shrug, but blow out the whistle command that I use to call my canine friend to my side just in case it is our companions.

The yowls immediately transform into exuberant bays and I kick my steed into motion, now positive that we have found our wayward friends. Leaving the others to catch up, it takes only minutes for the bulk of an onyx war hound to materialize on the gravel road, barking and running as if the archdemon itself was on his tail.

I slow just a bit as we get nearer to one another, and pat the saddle blanket behind me. With a grace that most people would not associate with the great beasts, Havoc leaps onto the horses back as we race passed and proceeds to almost lick me clear out of the saddle.

"I see they've been feeding you way too many sweets again," I tease the dog, scratching his head affectionately. Unfortunately for me, he responds to the ribbing by launching himself from his perch and barreling into the underbrush that runs parallel to the highway.

"Where has the fuzzy one run off to this time?" Shale asks as the others come to a halt beside me, "Or was I mistaken when I thought I saw it?"

"No, you weren't mistaken," I sigh and squint to try and find his wriggling form amongst the shadows, "But I have no clue where he went."

We spend a few minutes debating on the best path to take in pursuit of the mabari when out of the forest I hear, "Brasca! Wait up, you infernal beast!" followed by a series of yips and whines.

The grin now splitting my face must appear a tad maniacal to Zevran as he, then the others, emerge from the forest because he simply freezes and gawks our way with eyes the size of dinner plates. I don't bother trying to cover up the laugh that bubbles out, but it's ended regardless when I am abruptly wrenched from my horse then kissed very thoroughly by my spouse.

"Here we go again," someone, probably Morrigan, simpers from behind us while another huffs and stomps off. My guess that one was Wynne.

When the need to breathe finally-and literally-forces us to part, Alistair rests his forehead against mine, "I thought we had agreed never to do this to each other again?"

"You can punish me for it later, in private," I assure him, still a bit breathless as my boots touch the ground, "How did things go?"

"Torn veils, zombies, ghosts, and an ancient blood mage who also happens to be a Grey Warden. You know, the usual stuff," he smirks, his arm refusing to leave my waist as he grabs the roan's lead with his free hand and begins leading me back to where their camp is set up, "We sent Eamon on ahead after we seen just how dire the situation was so no one accidentally got themselves killed."

"Ali, our horses are wasted and we're on our last legs, so we might have to wait a day or two before playing catch up all over again. Hell, as things stand now, we almost lost Shale a few times in our rush to get here in time," I confess, my armor now gaining weight with every minute that passes, "But we had a few complications of our own on the way here, so we aren't currently operating at one hundred percent."

"A number of Levi's extended family sent a messenger bird yesterday to tell him to expect their arrival either later today or early tomorrow," Leliana chimes in, her tone as bouncy as her gait, "He said that they would be bringing tons of supplies with them and he was going to make sure that we received a very steep discount on whatever we need."

"Did someone let the chatty one into the smelly one's drink again?" Shale groans as the forest gives way to the walls of Warden's Keep and it's immense courtyard, "I am going to stuff dirt in my ears if it continues squawking like this."

"Oh, I missed you too Shale," the Orlesian songbird giggles before dancing off to finish preparing breakfast. Alistair and I grin at each other but wisely keep quiet over the fact that the golem has no ears to stuff.

A blur of black and burgundy at the other end of camp captures my attention a few seconds later and I give my beloved a kiss before wriggling out of his grasp. "I will be right back," I assuage when he starts to protest, his eyes never leaving me as I dig the book out of my bag and hold it to my chest, "I want to give this to Morrigan before she freaks out on someone."

His disappointment is evident, but seems to accept my logic, and waves me on, "She's become completely unbearable these last few days, even zapped Leli on the rump when asked if she wanted a cup of tea."

"I know that ought to surprise me, but I just don't have it in me to fake shock and outrage anymore when it comes to this group," I chortle over my shoulder as I stroll in the direction I'd seen her go.

It takes no time to find the apostate, nor does she make any attempt to disguise her excitement as I draw near. "Did you-is she really-is that-"

I resist showing any outward show of amusement at her less than eloquent dialog. "Yes we did. Yes she is. And yes this is," I hold out the antiquated tome for her to take, "I gave you my word that she would never be a danger to you again and here is the proof that I have upheld my oath."

Tears cascade freely down the wild woman's face as she tentatively strokes the dead tree emblem on the book's cover, and her shoulders hitch when she lifts her ocher gaze to my own, "Thank you...sister, there are no words to express the gratitude I feel. You helped me when there was so much to lose and so little to gain...did not abandon me when many would have. I-"

I press the text into her hands with a gentle smile, "Don't worry about it Morri, these are the things friends-and family-do for each other."

I turn to walk back to Alistair as she fawns over the journal, but she stops me and presses a large vial into my hand. "Half for you, half for Alistair. Drink it all at once though or it will be rendered useless," she whispers conspiratorially.

"What is it?" My tone matches hers as I inspect the dark red liquid sloshing around inside the glass.

"The old mage in the tower said that would extend the life of a Warden by up to twenty years," she explains, returning her hand to her mothers book, "Tis enough for two to capitalize on its benefits."

_Another twenty years with Alistair before the taint consumes us?_ I peer at her, then across the yard to my husband, and back, "An even trade then sister. Our lives-should we survive the archdemon-for your mother's secrets. Thank you...and you're right, there are no words."

"Twas not any trouble, for me at least," she answers in her more familiar cool tone just as the aforementioned husband comes within earshot, "Just remember what I said Alexa."

"I will, every word," I vow and slide the vial into a cloak pocket before trotting over to my fellow Warden and knocking him to the ground with a flying-and laughing-kiss.

**Definitely not my best, but I couldn't avoid it, there was stuff that needed done and I couldn't really find a better way to put it down.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Nope, don't own.**

"Come now Zevran, everyone makes mistakes," Taliesin simpers while his band of thugs attempt to slink into position around us, "Return home with me, where you belong. We can make up a story-"

"I'm going to venture out and assume that this plan of yours only works out if I'm dead, right?" I snarl at the Crow while trying to anticipate where they will strike first.

"It's business, my dear Warden, nothing more," the slimy rogue smirks, "I'm sure you understand."

"Zevran's place is here with us," I counter, eager for this jackass to be dead, then peer over at my Antivan brother, "But if you truly wish to go back to that life Zev..."

"I'm afraid that I am going to have to decline your offer my old friend," The elf's smile is cold and calculating as he takes my hand and presses his lips to it, "You see, I have made an oath to the vengeful sex goddess that stands before you, and so could not easily forget my vows, even if I wanted to."

"You always were a fool when it came to a pretty face," the man sneers in return as he draws his daggers from their sheaths, "I thought you'd learned your lesson after that messy business with Rinna, but sadly it seems that I have been mistaken. Very well, you die with your pet then Zevran Arainai, I hope she was worth it."

"More than you will ever know," Zevran lunges at his former lover and a cacophony of clanging metal breaks the tense silence.

I try to stay close to the pair as the fight progress, but the damnable Taliesin continues luring the elf father away from the main battle.

"She must be quite a talented whore, for you to abandon all reason like this," the human assassin taunts-the next I am within earshot-as he spins away from one of Zevran's blades, "Normally the female form holds little interest for me, but with that toned body and such a unique shade of scarlet hair..." The man has enough gall to wink at me, "I might have to sample her myself after I dispose of you."

"You will not-" my elven sibling's declaration is abruptly cut off by a roar that drowns out every other sound, "Uh-oh, I believe you have just angered your prey's personal god of war..."

At first I'm not sure if he speaks true, but the murderous expression on Alistair's face as he emerges from the throng and hurls himself at Taliesin tells me that yes, he heard every word. Another idiot Crow gets in my way so that I cannot view the duel in its entirety, going so far as to stab me in the leg with a poisoned blade in an effort to distract me further, but not even that can prevent the surge of pride that washes over met at seeing how well my husband and adopted brother work together as they decimate the mouthy wannabe murderer.

When the other rogues eventually see Zevran's dagger pierce their leader's heart and Alistair's sword rend his head from his shoulders, they break away from the fight and run, no doubt hoping to be lost among the other denizens of the city.

I yelp in alarm when Zevran collapses to his knees and, ignoring my rapidly blurring vision, force myself into a hobbling canter when Alistair lays his hand on the elf's shoulder. "What's wrong with him? Is he hurt?"

"Sorella, be calm, I am largely unharmed," the Antivan grasps my hands as I try to find any critical wounds on his person, "I was simply taking a moment to absorb what all of this means. You look more worse for wear than I mia cara."

"It's nothing. What are you babbling on about?" I prod, pausing to wince and smack my spouse when he jams his finger into the tear in my armor and hits the knife wound, "Ouch! Dammit Ali, don't do that, it hurts."

"Oops, sorry," the former Templer mumbles and moves off to aid with the scavanging.

"The Crows will believe that I died today, along with the others, as long as I don't do anything else to draw their attention again. So for the time being, I am safe," he confesses before letting out a relieved and slightly unhinged guffaw, "I am finally free of those bastardos!"

"Welcome to your new life then," I wearily laugh when he pulls me in for a hug, "I just hope you can remember us fondly wherever you go now..."

He pushes me back and glowers at me in confusion and hurt, "Wherever I go? Do you wish my company no longer Alexa?"

"That's not what I meant," I choke down the pain in my leg and clamor to my feet after the assassin as he stands and turns away, "It's just that part of me always knew that even after I released you from your oath, you stayed for the protection. This fight...this fight is ultimately mine and Alistair's, not yours, I would not harbor any ill will towards you if you left. Just know that you will always find a friend—and a sister-in me, no matter what you choose to do now."

Zevran whips around and grabs me by the arms, leveling his spice hued eyes to mine, "And where would I go that the darkspawn did not follow Lex? Even if I did not care for you, I could not leave because this invasion affects us all. Besides, I told you once that I was your man without reservation, do you know what has changed?"

I shake my head and have to fight the tears that threaten to spill over as he brushes a lock of hair from my cheeks and presses his warms lips to it affectionately, "Absolutely nothing, except now I fight to defend my sister instead of a stranger who showed mercy to an elf with a death wish."

"As touching of a moment as this is, I would suggest you refrain from spontaneously breaking into song until we are removed from this bloodbath and nestled in the relative safety of the aged nobleman's home," Morrigan snipes, sweeping by with a new lyrium roll bulging with glowing blue vials, "Alistair, tend to your wife, she looks like she finally saw you unclothed in the daylight."

"I expected that," Alistair calls after her, making his presence known once more as he ducks under my arms and takes some of the strain off of my throbbing limb, "But she is right, we need to get to Eamon's so Wynne can patch you up because you look like hell love."

"How sweet of you to say," I snark, now clinging to him as we begin trekking towards the inner city, "I think we ought to hurry things up a bit though, since I'm fairly certain that I've been poisoned again."

"Oh Maker," he groans and speeds up his gait.

Our plans are shattered when we find Loghain and another man badgering the Arl in the front hall of the manor. My intuition flickers, putting me on edge, just as the traitor general's companion turns on his heel to leer at us.

Arl Rendon sodding Howe.

My body tenses, preparing to spring, and Zevran's questions hit me full force. _"Like your vendetta against Howe? Where does that fit into your Warden duties?"_

Nowhere.

_He's nothing compared to the Blight or the Archdemon._

A pain in my hip where my husband's hand is slowly crushing it brings me back to the present. "Alistair, let me go, you're hurting me," I quietly direct so Howe can't overhear.

"Oh, sorry," he lets his hand fall to his side as he leans over to my ear, "We should have known that Loghain would pull something like this."

"Harboring traitors now are we Eamon?" Howe wheezes, his lecherous gaze making me want to scrub my skin off, "That's a crime punishable by death, in case you forgot."

"Tell me something Loghain, since I know we were not the only people who witnessed you quit the field and leave your king to be slaughtered, "Alistair completely disregards the Arl and takes a few steps forward, his stance unnaturally relaxed, "How many of your own men did you have to murder before the others became too scared to spill your secret? I just want to know how many good people had to die so you could steal the throne."

"Hold your tongue before your betters churl!" a dark haired woman nearly screeches from behind the general.

"Why should he? Are citizens suddenly not allowed to speak freely in Ferelden?" I challenge, smirking despite of the rising nausea, "The first thing a good leader learns is that they are nothing without their people and those people don't respond well to having their civil liberties revoked."

"They also learn to rid themselves of any threat to their rule-threats like Bryce Cousland-who was collaborating with the Orlesians to overthrow our kingdom," Howe gives me a razor sharp grin before shifting his hateful gaze towards Alistair, "It is the only way to preserve peace."

"The Couslands have always been loyal to Ferelden-even when the Howe's still bowed down to foreign crowns-in case you'd forgotten," I retaliate, not failing to notice that our exchange seems to unsettle Loghain, "The noble house of Cousland fell because you wanted what you could not earn fairly. You destroyed them so you could slime your way up the hiearchy."

"Enough of this drivel," the self appointed regent declares and glowers towards our group, "Before I take my leave though, know this Wardens, I will do _anything_ to keep Ferelden safe."

"Then fight with us instead of against us," I counter, refusing to cower even as the room begins spinning faster than before, "Your obsession with gaining power, coupled with your hatred for Orlais, is destroying the very country you claim to love so much."

He doesn't answer as he and his entourage make their way out, but I am forced to take an unsteady step back when Howe reaches out and tries to stroke my hair. When they are gone, I limply huddle against Alistair, who nearly drops me when Eamon explodes.

"Where in Andraste's sword have you been? I was readying a search party to come find you!"

"We were killing darkspawn and garnering the favor of nearly half the bannorn," I sneer while my beloved helps me into a chair, "What have you done lately, besides look pretentious and argue with idiots?"

His face flushes a very unflattering shade of red until he notices that my husband has stripped my leg bare and the two mages are tutting over the inflamed puncture. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's been poisoned, not that you really care," Morrigan snaps, not bothering to hide her irritation from the man as she pulls out a bag of herbs, "We were set upon by bandits while trying to enter your cursed city. She is growing more ill by the minute, but if you feel that screaming at her like a dying bronto might help, feel free to continue."

"Is there anything you require? We have spare rooms aplenty and I will have a servant fetch any supplies you need," he offers a bit sheepishly, "Alistair, I was hoping for a word in private when you get the chance."

"Go with him, the girls have things well in hand," I squeeze my lover's hand then nudge him onward, "It might actually be important, so get a move on. I love you."

"As I you. Don't do anything stupid, like overthrow the crown while I'm gone," he half jokes before giving me a chaste kiss and trotting after Eamon.

I wait until the sounds of Alistair's armor fades away before looking to the mages, "How bad is it?"

"You should be fine in a few days, though it wouldn't have been an issue if you'd told us about the poison right after the battle," Wynne chides, but her tone is almost maternal again for the first time since our spat, "You are hereby sentenced to bedrest for the next day or so."

Leliana and Zevran carry me up to my assigned chambers with the elf ducking out afterward so that our resident songbird can assist in the removal of my bloody armor and soiled clothes. She then helps me into a steaming hot bath and into a simple nightdress before tucking me into bed. I try to wait for my husband to return in order to learn what the Arl wanted, but almost immediately doze off when she begins crooning a lullaby from her homeland.

**Does anyone else want to smack Eamon and Isolde silly on a regular basis or is it just me? lol**


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review!**

**Might want to grab a tissue, depending on your level of weepiness.  
**

**I still own nothing.**

"I know that she's still sick Leli, but dammit this is important!" Alistair's frustrated growls snap me out of the Fade completely for the first time in who knows how long, "She's practically done nothing but sleep for two days as a result of the poison-not that I'm counting or anything-but she needs to know what's happened! Do you think I would be doing this if we had more time?"

"What the hell is all the racket about Ali?" I grumble, after wiping the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes then forcing my aching body into an upright position, "Did you burn down the palace or something?"

"No my love, I'm sorry to say that this is much, much worse than me accidentally setting a building on fire," he ominously admits, pushing passed the lanky bard to seat himself at the end of the bed, "We had to rescue the queen from Rendon Howe's dungeon of nightmares, save the alienage from slavers, dispose of a demon, narrowly avoid being sent to Fort Drakon, and Eamon told me just before I came up here that Loghain's had the Landsmeet pushed up. But I did happen find an Orlesian Grey Warden named Riordan along the way, so it's not all bad news."

"Thunderhumper," I snort one of Oghren's favored curses and push back the thick layer of blankets covering me, "Help me to the lavatory, then you _will_ be starting from the beginning."

He carefully executes my commands, even keeping his voice under control when he elaborates on the atrocities he'd witnessed in Howe's miniature house of horrors. "I just want you to know that I was going to kill him, for you," my husband drops his head and takes my hand in his, pressing a kiss into the palm before picking back up on his thought, "But I didn't get the pleasure. Sodding bastard had some kind of poison capsule that he shoved in his mouth before anyone could stop him."

"So Rendon Howe is dead, by his own hand no less?" I feel surprisingly calm as the question rolls off my tongue, "Perhaps things are better off this way, since I am positive that no justice would have been served had he been brought before the magistrate."

"What? You can't honestly tell me that you're happy with this!" Alistair howls, making Havoc rumble a whine of concern from his spot in front of the fireplace, "He deserved to be drawn and quartered for what he did to those people, for what he did to your family!"

I blankly stare at him for a long minute until he calms enough to hear my next words. "At one time, I would have agreed with you whole heartedly, but so many things have changed Ali. I've changed. I'm much better at being Grey Warden Lex than I ever was at being rebellious noble Alexa Cousland, no matter how much I loved my family."

"But-" he tries to interrupt but I forge on, "What Rendon Howe did was unmistakably evil, but the Blight and the archdemon are infinitely more important than something as callow as revenge. Would I have enjoyed seeing him hang from the gallows for his crimes? Bet your perfectly toned arse I would; but it is not something imperative to my duty as a Warden."

His soulful orbs scan my face for any signs of dishonesty, then his broad shoulders slump when he finds none, "Once again you prove exactly why you're in charge I'm not, other than the fact that I'd have gotten us lost somewhere in Tevinter and would have eventually woken up one morning alone-and with no pants."

"Maker, I do love you," I snicker the endearment as my husband slithers up the bed and collapses, his head dropping into my lap, "But you still haven't told me how all of this started."

"Erm, remember after our little palaver with Loghain, when Eamon said he wanted to talk to me? Hhmm, that feels goods," he purrs when I begin massaging his scalp, "Anyways, one of the queen's servants had come to him right before Loghain showed himself and told Eamon that Anora was being held prisoner at Howe's estate here in the capitol. I thought it was a trap at first-but then I couldn't wake you to see what you thought and I knew I had to make the call on my own-I corralled Sten, Zevran, and Morrigan to go check things out with me. It was a good thing I did go, especially since Howe had Riordan and those other poor sods imprisoned as well."

I lean down and press my lips to his forehead, "That is almost exactly what I would have done, though I would have taken Leliana instead of Sten on account that Howe's prejudice against nonhumans is no state secret and she would have blended in better than the Qunari giant."

He cranes his neck back to give me his sad puppy eyes, "You wouldn't have taken me with you?"

"No, largely on the basis that it could have been a trap and nothing good could of come of it if Howe had managed to capture all of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. One of us would have needed to stay unfettered in order to speak at the Landsmeet...and stage a rescue operation afterwards."

"Damn, how can I argue with that?" he chortles, capturing a stray lock of crimson and twirling it around this thick fingers, "Maybe I ought to take the crown, just so I can make you my queen. After the coronation I could just sit back and gleefully watch the havoc that you would cause."

"You just want to see someone besides you get bossed around," I accuse, then clutch my stomach when it suddenly lets out an angry growl, "Maker, I'm starving!"

"Ask and you shall receive my love," Alistair gracefully rolls to his feet and pulls me up after him, "Get dressed, then we can head down for dinner. I'm sure the others will be glad to see you up and about."

My body, still sore from the fight with Taliesin and the proceeding days of immobility, protests as I pull the cotton shift off and don one of my husband's tunics-which I belt-and a pair of soft linen trousers. I contemplate plaiting my hair in its usual braid, but discard the thought when I spot Alistair and Havoc giving the door the same forlorn look.

Hand in hand we stroll down to the dining hall, the clicking of my war hound's nails echoing after us, and find the room teeming with the estate's occupants. Leliana is the first to see us, standing as she gestures for us to join them.

"You are looking much better Lex," she chatters in her normal bubbly tone as everyone makes room for us to sit, "Did Alistair catch you up on everything you missed?"

I thank a servant as they set a heaping plate before me, then nod my affirmation, "I am out of action for two days and my lug of a husband decided to run off and turn Denerim on its ear. From what I understand, he's also still a bit peeved that he didn't get to kill Howe himself."

"He omitted one of the best parts sorella," Zevran quips between sips of wine, "Neither Sten nor Morrigan complained once after we discovered the extent of that man's depravity. It was something I didn't think to be possible."

"No murder talk at the dinner table for once children," Wynne chastises then smacks the Antivan, "And get your pretty boots off of the table, this isn't a brothel. How are you feeling Alexa?"

I swallow my bite of mutton and shrug a shoulder, "Fine actually. A bit stiff from not moving for so long, but that will pass soon enough."

"Forgin' the moaning statue ought to help with that lass," Oghren belches over his mug before shaking his head, "Sod it all, I knew I shoulda brought Felsi with me this trip..."

"That is not the visual I wanted Oghren," I grimace at the mental image of the stout dwarf and his girl being intimate as I shift my attention towards the others, "So when is the meeting going to happen now?"

"Tomorrow," Alistair mutters in a flat timbre before chugging the contents of his tankard.

I look to the rest for an explanation, but they are all staring at something behind me.

"I would know that bloody mane of hair anywhere," a voice from another life interrupts, making me freeze in my seat, "They told me that you were dead."

I slowly swivel around to face the man who I'd nearly given up any hope of ever finding.

"Hello pup," the man man shifts uneasily in his chain mail and offers a watery smile, "Long time no see."

"Fergus?" I whisper, then throw myself at him when he bobs his head in confirmation, "Oh Maker, it's really you!"

Fergus stumbles under the the force of my embrace, but his grasp doesn't falter as we cling to one another for dear life. "I thought I'd lost all of you Lex. I tried searching, but after you were listed among the dead a second time I...I'm so sorry, I should have tried harder..."

"I tried to save them Fergus," I blubber into his chest, all illusions of strength stripped away in his presence, leaving only a scared and lost little girl in its wake, "Mother, father, Oren and Oriana...I wasn't strong enough to protect them...not fast enough..."

"Shh, it's not your fault baby girl," the elder Cousland soothes, his hand stroking the length of my wavy tresses, "I know you did everything you could..."

"Why don't we take this somewhere a bit more private?" Alistair murmurs quietly and I lift my head to see that the entire hall has fallen silent as they watch our tearful reunion.

As Fergus leads me out of the room, our arms wound tightly around one another and faces streaked with wetness, I snake my hand out and grab Zevran, "I want the whole family to come."

Thankfully he doesn't question the directive, but simply motions for the rest of our rag tag group to join us. "Of course sorella, anything you need."

"Who is he?" my blood brother inquires after Zevran falls back to walk alongside my spouse.

"He is my other brother, adopted me after he found out what happened at Highever," I explain in a low voice that warms as I unveil the odd familial dynamics, "Leliana—the other ginger-and Morrigan—the dark haired mage-have also taken me under their wing. Wynne is the slightly snooty grandmother to us all, the dwarven berserker is the hilarious alcoholic uncle, while Sten and Shale are the disapproving cousins. Not ideal to normal people, but they're perfect for me."

"Interesting family indeed," he muses aloud as we enter our shared common area.

After we get the mandatory introductions out of the way, I find myself situated between my brothers, with a hand being held by each of them. "Tell me what happened to you at Ostagar Ferg. King Cailan said that you'd been sent out with a scouting group, but you never came back."

"Darkspawn happened, that's where I got this thing," he admits, touching a long jagged scar on his cheek, "A Chaisnd and his wife found me and healed me, then led me to a group of people all claiming to be Grey Warden recruits—the Chaisnd and his bride included. We searched damn near every inch of Ostagar after we found the still warm embers of a single funeral pyre, but couldn't find anyone alive."

"You missed us by mere hours then," Alistair frowns from his place at my feet next to Havoc, "We were the ones who set the pyre, it was for the king. Which direction did you go after leaving there? We had veered off towards Lothering, before it was overrun."

Fergus' visage grows dark for a moment, but shakes it off almost immediately, "We were chased into the Brecillian forest-and lost a few good people along the way-but doubled back to Redcliffe as soon as we thought the danger had passed. We saw the fires from a mile away though and thought it lost, so I led them north to Highever...It had been sacked and half was razed to the ground..." he trails off to stare blankly at the wall until I shake his arm, "Sorry pup, where was I? Oh yes. After surmising what had happened, I thought it prudent to come to Denerim and plead to Anora for aid. It wasn't until a few days after we'd arrived that I learned of Howe's treachery and that we'd been stripped of our titles."

"And no one recognized one of the missing Cousland heirs that whole time? How novel," Zevran wryly comments, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of my hand.

"Oh, I was recognized eventually," my human sibling laughs, but the sound lacks any semblance of humor, "I was lucky in the fact that it was Anora who realized who I was and not some viper like Howe."

"Is that why you are dressed in the uniform of her personal guard? Has she been protecting you?"

"Yes, but there is more to it than that," his soft cerulean orbs meet mine and hold them, "We'd both lost people we loved more than life itself. Anora understands what I've endured over the past year, the pain, the loss, the hopelessness. She has been there for me when no one else could be, just as I have for her. I—I love her Lex."

"Alistair and I got married!" the untimely declaration is out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Well, I suppose a congratulations are in order then," Fergus beams me a genuinely pleased smile, "Though it means that he and I-along with the rest of your adoptive family-need to have a talk later on. You're not upset about this, are you?"

"It's not every day that one of your last living relatives comes back from the dead to announce that he is in love with the sovereign ruler of your country," I respond, nudging his shoulder to show that I am only joking, "But no, I'm not upset. You have helped one another through the darkest time of each other's lives, so that alone makes me indebted to her. I know that you will always love Oren and Oriana, but I'm smart enough to also know that you need to live your life the best way you know how. Like Zevran says, take your pleasures where you can because you never know when your time will come."

"Your newest brother sounds like a smart man," Fergus grins approvingly and draws me in for a hug, "And the rest of your surrogate family is just as commendable, if I may say."

Somehow I know that he is also referring to my bond with Alistair, and I rest my head against the crook of his neck with a relieved sigh, "Thank you Fergus."

He answers with a peck on the top of my head and my family proceeds to spend the evening conversing-mostly embarrassing stories from my childhood-until Fergus begs his leave to go check on his beloved, with promises to be back in the morning when I finally get my chance to speak to the queen myself.

"I think he's adorable!" Leliana squeals after returning from the kitchens with a pilfered basket of snacks for everyone.

"You said the same thing about the mutant pig," Morrigan remarks, throwing the beast a dirty look as she gathers her things for bed.

"You are such a prude sometimes," the bard sticks her tongue out at the wild woman, "Fergus is much more appealing than Schmooples, and in a completely beddable way too."

"Would that be considered incest, if you took Fergus to your bed and had your way with him?" our former Crow questions with a devious smirk, "I'm only asking because most of us claim a familial tie to our ravishing leader and would hate to draw her ire."

"I'd entirely avoid the subject of bedding him then, to be on the safe side," Wynne sagely advises, shuffling towards her own room, "But that is merely my opinion."

"Ah, the wisdom of our Nonna and her magical bosoms must never be disregarded," the elf sighs in mock resignation, "I must concede defeat in light of your infinite knowledge."

"I swear you will be the death of me one day boy, if Alistair doesn't beat you to it," the elder mage groans before slipping into her quarters and shutting the door.

"But what a sweet death it could be!" he calls after her and is promptly smacked in the face with a pillow by the bard.

Safely snuggled in the arms of my husband, I must be more tired that I thought, because the ensuing laughter is the last thing I hear.

**I wanted to have something happy go on before the bottom drops out. Tell me what you think?**


	30. Chapter 30

**Yay another chapter! Still don't own anything though :-(**

"I cannot thank any of you enough for this," Anora gushes as we prepare to take our separate routes to the Landsmeet, "Cailan was right about the honor and loyalty of the Grey Wardens, I will never doubt it again."

"We are just doing what is right, An-your highness" Alistair gently reminds the queen, unable to use her given name despite her insistence that we do so.

"Besides, you have been an amazing leader these six years, why destabilize the kingdom when there is no need for it?" I add, brushing a piece of yarn from Fergus' mantle before releasing him into the custody of his lady, "Though I have to say that I'm glad that we agreed to keep this from Eamon. He's going to have kittens when he finds out that Alistair has never been a contender for the throne, but will have to hold his tongue while we're at the Landsmeet."

"I concur, now if only we can convince my father to change his course of action," her tone turns sad for a second, but she recovers quickly and squares her shoulders, "Let us go and get you your army Commander."

I cross my right arm over my chest and give a respectful bow, "By your leave, your Majesty."

Anora offers a respectful nod in return and Fergus calls for her guards to march. With Riordan in tow to keep a watchful eye out, they exit the market district with no attempt to hide themselves.

We tarry until the group is well out of range, then I peer over at my companions, "Are we ready to do this?"

"Not even a little," my husband deadpans and we begin trudging towards the iron gates.

It feels like hours later when we finally find ourselves in the entrance hall, staring at the imposing wood and steel doors that bar our way to the great council chamber.

"Zevran and Wynne, stick close to Alistair in case Eamon or Loghain tries something stupid," I command, the hair on the back of my neck already standing on end, "Leliana, Morrigan, you are with me. Everyone else will wait out here and keep an eye on things. I don't want any surprises coming through this door."

I hate leaving most of our heavy hitters behind as we push open the massive doors, but we need to minimize our intimidation factor...at least on the surface.

Alistair's and my new steel gray cloaks swirl around us impressively as people gasp and scamper out of our path. I mentally make a note to buy the bard something sparkly for working overnight in order to finish the mantles, then insisting that we wear our winged Warden helms into the chamber. When I finally catch sight of Loghain, he is droning on about refusing to let the Orlesians make slaves out of the people of Ferelden.

"You mean like how you were selling residents of the alienage to Tevinter slavers in order to fund your private war?" I crow, silently signaling for Alistair to hold up the scavenged documents for the council to see.

"All forms of slavery are illegal, explain yourself Teyrn Mac Tir!" one bann shouts, his demand instantly paving the way for others to make their voices heard.

Loghain tries to argue that the home of the city elves is a lost cause, then fingers us as agents of Orlais when the tactic fails.

"How can we trust such a man to lead when he employs vermin like Rendon Howe to torture and kill those who oppose his obsession with the Orlesians?" I continue over his vehement protests, earning the approving murmurs of the nobles who have suffered at Howe's hand.

"And what would you do Warden? Put Maric's bastard on the throne so he could have you take my daughter's place?" the general sneers, believing he has cornered us, "Then no one would dare contest the will of the Grey Wardens."

"Not at all Ser," I declare, navigating our group to the center of the room, "We are Grey Wardens, the Blight and the archdemon who leads them are our only concern. It would also be impossible for one of us to take the crown because Wardens give up all titles and surnames when we join the order and are not permitted to accrue any others. Our sole duty is to live and die defending Thedas from the Horde."

"Pretty words from the last of the Cousland line," the man actually chuckles, "But then your family always was good at giving public speeches. Nothing you have said changes the fact that you and your menagerie of criminals abducted my daughter."

"We were protecting her from you!" my fellow Warden booms, rising to his full height, "You had her imprisoned at Rendon Howe's estate then ordered the Landsmeet moved up so she would not be there to challenge your orders!"

"I think I can speak for myself Ser Warden," the queen's voice echoes through the hall as she appears, with Fergus-our family swords strapped to his back-shadowing her steps, "Lords and Ladies of the council, the honorable Grey Wardens speak the truth. Rendon Howe was a fiend and my father is no longer the legendary hero that you remember. The people of Ferelden suffer while he fights imagined enemies. A difficult decision lays before us now, either to lend our aid to the Grey Wardens or take our chances with my father as the Blight swallows our kingdom piece by piece."

My elder brother is the first to step forward and bow to Anora, "As the rightful heir to the teyrnir of Highever and all its holdings, I hereby announce that Highever will stand with Queen Anora and the Grey Wardens."

Many of the men and women follow suit, declaring fealty to the reigning monarch and pledging their forces to the Grey Wardens. When the commotion eventually dies down, Loghain stands with only a handful of loyalists at his side.

"You have lost Loghain, step down peacefully and let Ferelden stand united."

"You-who poisoned my own child against me-expect me to just stand aside and let you ruin the only pure thing I have left?" the man scoffs, drawing his blade, "I think not."

I manage to halt the descent of his weapon with Starfang just before it bites into my shoulder and answer his attack with a whirlwind of spinning blades.

"Dammit Loghain, yield to the Commander you fool!" Alistair yells, struggling to free himself from Zevran and Fergus' grasp.

I take advantage of the timely distraction and launch myself at the aged soldier's knees. The maneuver successfully knocks the man off of his feet and we topple to the stone floor, wrestling for domination. Loghain retaliates by bashing my head off of a step, then tries to strip Starfang from my hand, but I somehow keep my hold on it and smash the pommel into his nose.

He rolls away with a groan and we both stagger to our feet. "Maric once told me that you can tell what kind of a person someone is by the quality of his enemies," he banters and spits out a mouthful of blood as we circle one another, "Considering the circumstances, I wonder if the bigger compliment goes to you or me."

"You don't have to be an enemy Loghain. Join us and end this madness," I growl, falling into a backward somersault as he attacks, and get in a lucky kick to his throat when he advances.

The general drops forward onto his knees with an agonized cry, his great sword sliding to a stop at my feet. I sheath my Imperial Edge and pick it up, inspecting it a moment before resting the weapon against the side of his neck. "Live or die, your choice."

"I was wrong about you Warden. Ferelden will be safe in your hands," Loghain gasps, struggling to straighten his upper body, "I yield."

"Commander, I know that he has committed grievous crimes, but I beg you to be merciful," Anora sobs as she stumbles over to her father.

"Perhaps I could offer an amicable solution?" Riordan materializes beside me while the nobles behind us scream their opinions, "Have him undertake the Joining. If he lives, he will have his chance to redeem himself. If he does not, justice will still be served."

I peer down at Loghain, back to the elder Warden, then over to Anora. The sorrow in her gaze makes my decision for me. "How soon can everything be prepared?"

"We can do it tonight," the Orlesian answers dutifully, "I will be able to show you how-"

"No!" Alistairs wails and I hear the heavy doors crash into the stone walls as he races out of the chamber.

_Oh Maker, what have I done?_

**Who saw that one coming?**


	31. Chapter 31

**Today is my wedding anniversary, so you get a chapter lol**

**No ownage on my behalf.**

"We have searched every inch of the city and have not been able to find him sorella," Zevran murmurs somberly as I carefully fold my absent husband's azure mantle into a neat bundle and slide it into the bag, "We cannot wait any longer, the queen will be awaiting our arrival in Redcliffe, and we are already a day behind schedule."

I wipe away the few tears dripping from my eyes and shoulder Alistair's pack beside my own, "I know fratello, I was just hoping..."

My adopted brother gives me a lopsided grin, "Maybe he heard that we intended on traveling to Redcliffe and has already set out in an attempt to beg your forgiveness? I know that is what I would do, were I in his position."

"Not everyone aspires to be as charming as you Zev," I lift a hand to the band hanging from its chain around my neck and absently stroke it until I can steel my resolve, then turn to my adopted sibling, "Time to go fratello, the war won't wait for us."

He offers his arm-but I give him a smile and a shake of the head, determined not to appear weak in front of the gathered forces-as we navigate our way through the manor and out to the courtyard where the others are waiting with the horses.

Out of everyone who I'd assumed would try to offer solace, it is Wynne who touches my arm as I accept the reins to my roan, "If it is any consolation Lex, I was wrong about you and him, you really did have something special. I'm sorry that I did not see it before."

"Already forgotten," I reply in an unintentionally dead voice and climb atop my steed, "Everybody, move out!"

The contingent of soldiers surges forward as I trot ahead to take my place at the head of the column. Along the way, Loghain takes up what was Alistair's traditional position on my right flank and the rest of our group spreads out into a V formation using me as the axis. No one tries to engage me in conversation as we ride, having learned over the past three days that it would be futile.

The migration to Redcliffe takes two weeks because an army only moves as fast as its supply train. My relief at seeing the now familiar red roofed towers of the keep is shattered though when we discover that the village has been flooded with darkspawn.

After dismounting and swatting the roan's flank to send her to safety, I turn to scowl at Loghain, "Sparing your life cost me my husband old man, you'd better be worth it or I'll make damn sure you become another body on the pyres."

"I will do all that is in my power not to fail you Commander," he gravely replies, then releases his blade from its scabbard and charges fearlessly into the chaos.

I choose to stalk off in the opposite direction in order to discern for myself that the portcullis leading to the castle is still intact.

"Is it wise to let him off his leash? He is not known for his loyalty. You of all people should be aware of this Lex," Morrigan prods after we've ensured the stability of the barrier.

"He's an accomplished warrior," I evade a downward swing and stab the offending genlock in the eye, then only pausing long enough to kick it free of Starfang before seeking out another target, "This should be old hat for one as decorated as he."

"Look at you, giving such logical responses now," she chortles, extending a hand to shatter a band of frozen hurlocks into a spray off glittering crimson shards, "I'd imagine your Templar would make a joke at this point in time, but I cannot think of anything sufficiently tasteless."

Upon her mention of my missing spouse, the pain and anger in my chest flares, causing me to savagely decapitate the emissary that had taken the genlocks place. "You don't need to do that Morrigan," I finally pant, pushing my helm back to wipe the sweat away with my less gory arm, "I'm fine."

One inky eyebrow arches as those unsettling eyes of hers takes in the pile of corpses surrounding us, then turns to me with an incredulous expression, "Fine you say? Suit yourself, as long as your delusions do not deter you from your path. I was merely attempting to adhere to my sisterly duties, but-"

"Lex, over here!" Leliana interrupts our staring contest with a shout, then points out another advancing group of darkspawn when I turn my head her direction.

"Andraste's flaming knickers," I grumble and start making my way to her, stopping briefly to mercifully end a soldier whose wounds are slathered in darkspawn blood.

By the time darkness swallows the town hours later, with the pyres on the southern hill lighting the sky as if to emulate midday, Loghain is shadowing me while the group combs through the wounded and disposes of the tainted.

"Why do you do this? Some of them could have recovered from their wounds," he finally grows angry enough to ask as I wipe my dagger on a dirty rag and gesture for someone to remove the body of a fallen mage.

"Because they have been infected and if left unchecked, the men will eventually become ghouls-servants of the darkspawn," I explain matter of factly and I begin leading him up the path that leads to the castle, "The women aren't as lucky as that. If the infection doesn't kill them outright, females are slowly transformed into something called a broodmother. All of the darkspawn you have seen and fought have been spawned by broodmothers."

"Will we encounter any of these broodmothers?" I can't even bring myself to laugh at the obvious trepidation in his voice.

I pause near the windmill to get a drink and catch my breath before resuming our journey-and our conversation, "Not on the surface you won't. Broodmothers spend their entire lives deep underground—the dwarven ones popping out genlocks, the human ones making hurlocks, while elven broodmothers create shrieks. Qunari ones make everyone's favorite...the ogres."

"Then why not seek out the broodmothers in their nests and destroy them?" he gives the guards at the gate a nod of greeting as we pass through, "Why wait for them to reach the surface?"

"Because arseholes like you keep trying to make us go extinct," I fire back before speeding up to walk with Zevran, who was no doubt waiting for our arrival.

"Lex!" Fergus belts after we dispatch the last of the darkspawn stragglers in the courtyard, "We tried to send word hours before the attack, but the messenger must have missed you. Riordan is here and I think he has more bad news."

"Do I get any other kind?" I whine dejectedly as we limp into the castle, then look to the others, "Loghain, you're with me, everyone else, go get cleaned up and some food in your bellies before you crash. I'll wake you if something comes up."

Havoc refuses to leave my side-and since he is every bit the Grey Warden I am-I take his presence in stride as my brother leads us to where the others are waiting. "Is everyone here?"

"You were the last," Fergus affirms and opens the door to reveal the great hall, packed with soldiers and nobles mulling about in their battle gear.

"Commander, there has been a development," Teagan states in way of greeting as we near the central grouping.

"Let me guess, the horde saw Oghren's bare arse and started fleeing for their lives?" I quip and flop into the nearest chair, too exhausted to do much else but remove my helmet and rub the mabari's offered head.

"I fear that the attack on Redcliffe was a ruse to draw us all here," Riordan confesses after the snickering dies out, "Yesterday I was able to get close enough to their main forces to listen in, as it were, and what I learned chilled me to the core."

"Full frontal Oggie then," I snort and scratch a piece of dried goo from Havoc's head, "Enough with the dramatic pausing man, tell us what you discovered."

"The archdemon has appeared at the head of the darkspawn army..." his dark eyes are brimming with anxiety as they shift to mine, "And it's leading them towards Denerim, not Redcliffe."

Flashes of nightmares past meld with the horrors I'd encountered in the Deep Roads and the gruesome combination nearly makes me spill the contents of my stomach all over his scuffed boots. "What do we do? Since I doubt soiling our drawers will help us any," I reply once I feel controlled enough to speak.

"We strike out for Denerim at first light," Anora announces over the din, looking distinctly uncomfortable in her fancy splint mail as she manifests out of the crowd, "Then we move as swiftly as possible in order to save what and who we can while you and the other Wardens deal with the archdemon."

"It will take a week's hard marching to get to the capitol Anora," Loghain informs his daughter as he bends over to gaze at the maps spread across the massive table to our left, "I fear they don't have that much time, if we are to believe Riordan."

"We could leave now-ahead of the army-and try to draw Urthmiel away," I suggest, rising on trembling legs to join them at the table, "Maybe that would slow them down long enough for the army to arrive?"

"It wouldn't slow them down enough to make a difference, not this close," the Orlesian Warden replies defeatedly, "And we will need the army in order to punch a hole in the darkspawn ranks long enough for us to slip behind their lines. Otherwise I doubt any of us will live long enough to reach the archdemon. No, going in together is our only chance at victory."

_For all his bravado, Cailan knew there would be no victory at Ostagar._

No. Not again.

"Are you telling me that we have been reduced to using innocent people as fodder while we go chasing the archdemon all over the city?" I snarl, whirling around to stand toe to toe with the elder Warden, "That would make us no better than Loghain when he left everyone to die at Ostagar!"

"It is the only way!" he reiterates with a yell-causing the other people in the room to pause in their conversations and look our way-then continues in a more sympathetic tone, "I don't like this anymore than you Lex, but if we do not at least try to take down the archdemon now, Ferelden _will_ fall...and the rest of Thedas will be next."

"What happens when we finally make it to the archdemon?" Loghain queries, not so subtly veering the talk in another direction.

With a sigh, Riordan gestures for us to follow him out of the chambers and to his own rooms where he then falls against the door wearily after shutting it. "Did Duncan-or Alistair-ever explain why it is necessary for a Grey Warden to deal the killing blow?"

"No, but I always figured that it had something to do with the taint in our blood," I confess, bonelessly dropping into yet another open chair.

The man nods and moves to stand in front of the blazing hearth, "You are correct, more so than you realize..."

He proceeds to go into minute detail about why it is essential for a Warden to kill the archdemon...and the consequences that come with it. For a long time after he's quieted, none of us are willing to break the hollow silence.

Nearly an hour passes as I battle the tumultuous emotions threatening to make me turn tail and run, but I eventually calm and make my decision. "I'll do it. I will be the one to make the final blow. I started this, I gathered all of these people who are about to die; it's the least I can do to repay their sacrifice."

"No, I am the senior Warden and my Calling is not that far off," Riordan challenges, rubbing his temples as if to soothe a headache, "You and Loghain only need worry about it should I fall."

"Why don't we just agree to survive long enough to reach the archdemon, then we can argue about it?" I counter, then have to cover my mouth with a filthy hand to stifle a yawn.

"Of course Commander," he concedes and lets out a yawn of his own, "We should get some rest while we can, for I fear we may be dead the next we get a chance."

The four of us say our goodnights then Havoc, Loghain, and I shuffle to our individual rooms.

The war hound raises his muzzle into the air and sniffs as we enter my chambers, then have to slow the beating of my heart when I see it is only Morrigan who is waiting. "I know what Riordan wanted to speak with you and Loghain about Alexa..."

**Will she or won't she? ;-)**


	32. Chapter 32

**I decided that because it is my anniversary still, that you'll get two chapters. Can I at least get a review in thanks? Maybe? Pretty please? With a chocolate and whip cream covered Alistair on top?**

**Nope, don't own.**

"What do you mean she's gone?" Leliana asks for the third time as we mount our horses in the pre-dawn gloom.

"As in the opposite of here? You know, like Alistair, but with less screaming and banging doors?" I snap, already weary with her incessant probing, then blow out a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry sorella, but could you just let it go? We have bigger things to worry about than the witch's defection."

"But why would she leave us on the night before we go to war?"

_Because I refused to order Loghain to lay with her...because I would not allow another innocent to be corrupted by Urthmiel...because I'd rather die than give the archdemon a human face and a second chance to destroy the world..._

"She said that she could not bear to watch us all die," I finally confess, taking small comfort in the fact that Morrigan had actually made the statement.

"Is there no hope then?" the bard's voice wavers with uncertainty as her steed skulks after my own.

"There is always hope," Loghain utters the assurance she needs...the one I'm currently unable to give her myself.

I swivel around on my perch and gaze at the legion streaming across the bannorn behind me.

_Oh Alistair we need you...I need you..._

That night, while we are camped, I swear that I hear someone calling my name in the distance, but when no one appears after I answer, I chalk it up to raw nerves and curl up on my bedroll to try and get at least a few hours of rest before the nightmares begin anew.

Two days after that, we encounter the rear flank of the darkspawn army and, during the battle, I swear I see my husband defending a cluster of mages out on the far line.

The next afternoon, I can see the sprawl of Denerim on the horizon as a darkspawn mace crushes my helmet against the side of my head and knocks me unconscious.

"Lex, can you hear me?" my favorite voice in all of Thedas gently draws me out of the Fade. Or farther in, I'm not sure.

"Alistair?" my head swims as I try to focus on where his voice is coming from.

"I'm right here love. Thank the Maker you're al-Agh!" he screams as my fists connects with his face.

"You sodding bastard! You left me!" I shriek, rolling from the cot and throwing another slew of blows, but he dodges the wild swings and grabs my wrists, leaving me to fall against his body with a loud wracking sob.

"I didn't mean to Lex, I swear," he retorts, burying his undamaged cheek into my hair as we sink to the floor, "I needed time to cool off after what happened, so I took a walk, but I came back. Problem was that everyone was gone, the chambers bereft of anyone but guards. I was heading towards Eamon's when some thugs bopped me on the head. I woke up on a Tevinter slave ship two days later. It took me killing a few of their guys-including the captain-to convince them that dropping me off at the nearest Ferelden port was in their best interest. I've been trying to get back to you ever since. I would never leave your side willingly Alexa, you ought to know that by now."

"How are you not dead?" I lean my head back and touch the bandage that engulfs the entire right side of his face.

"I almost was. Zevran was inches from carving my heart out when Wynne convinced him to hold off on killing me until I'd said my piece," he covers the hand touching his face and gingerly presses it to the wound while his free hand clasps the scarred side of my own visage, "I received this beauty on the boat. Acid flask to the face when I was strangling the life out of the captain. Wynne said that there is still a good chance that I will be able to see out of the eye when it heals, so not all is lost."

I drop my hand to his chest in search of his ring and gasp when it is nowhere to be found. "They took it, didn't they?"

He gives a sad nod, "Along with everything else, including Duncan's shield. Please tell me that you forgive me..."

"I forgive you. And we'll find you another ring after we kick the archdemon's scaly arse," I smile, then hum contentedly when his lips capture mine in a tender kiss.

"Oh shit, sorry," a plump woman with auburn hair mutters and I pull away from the kiss to see the apostate who had traveled with my brother.

"It's alright Mischa," I chuckle in amusement, then promptly fail to wipe the smile from my face when I try to look serious, "What did you need?"

"Riordan asked me to come and see if you were awake yet and, if you were, tell you that you and Alistair need to speak with him as soon as possible," she quickly explains in her accented alto as she sits down a set of what I assume to be clean clothes, "He also said to inform you that two more Orlesian Wardens have found their way to us."

"Thank you dear," I tell her honestly and extract myself from my husband's warm embrace.

"Never a dull moment is there?" he chuckles after the woman disappears from the entrance of the tent.

"What would be the fun in that?" I elbow him in the ribs before realizing something, "Hey, the tent isn't spinning anymore! That's a good sign, right?"

"Brat," he rolls his eyes at my antics and fetches the bundle of garments, "I'll help you with your armor after you get dressed."

Twenty minutes-and an impromptu kissing session-later, we stroll up to the other Wardens, hand in hand once more.

After being introduced to the newly found Wardens Roland and Gabrielle, Riordan rolls out a detailed map of the city and explains an idea of the six of us dividing into pairs and entering Denerim from three separate directions, all with the goal of herding the archdemon to Fort Drakon.

"I think I like it," I comment when he's concluded, "Riordan and Gabrielle, you come in from the northern gates, Alistair and Roland, you take the west. Loghain and I will come up from the south. Last one to the archdemon buys everyone a round after this is over."

"Lex, I just got you back, I'm not letting you go without me," my husband protests using his Templar pose-complete with crossed arms and matching scowl, then pounds his fist off of the table when I shake my head no.

"You will do as you are ordered Captain," I command in a flat tone, barely withholding a wince at the hurt look he aims at me, "You will secure the west gate with Roland before making your way to the fort. If you have a problem with it, I will reassign you to guard the supply trains this instant, is that understood?"

"Crystal, Commander," he huffs, but I can see the gears in his head begin working furiously as he looks out into the semi-darkness.

"I'm going to split up my companions to accompany all of you. I do this because I trust them to get you through the city intact," I quickly sift through my companions in my head before continuing, "Riordan, Sten and Leliana will go with you since you will have the farthest to travel. Alistair, I want Wynne and Zev with you since you will be coming through the main gates and will need to fight harder to get passed the horde. Oghren and Shale will be with me-and Havoc since I know he won't be left behind," the warhound licks my hand in appreciation and I scratch behind one frayed ear, "The army will concentrate on the northern and western gates of the city because the bulk of Denerim's citizens reside in those two districts. The south end will only get a few squads to clean it out because it's mostly factories and warehouses that can be replaced, whereas people are not. Any questions?"

"What about securing our respective areas? What if the darkspawn come back?" Roland inquires, his accent so thick I can barely understand the question.

"Leave a group of soldiers in each section to finish clearing it," Alistair, to my surprise and delight, instructs, "It's the best we can do under the circumstances. Our main objective now is the archdemon. Let the army take care of the rest."

"What he said," I agree, righting myself to stretch a kink out of my back, "I want us to head out as soon as the army is ready to march. Havoc, go round the gang up for me bud, they need to be told what's going on."

The warhound lets out a loud bark, then sprints off into the black. As the others meander off to make their final preparations, I can feel Alistair's gaze burning into me.

"You're doing this because you're still angry with me," the pain coloring his tone is palpable, "I knew it, you haven't forgiven me at all. Can't say that I blame you, I left you alone after I promised-"

I resist the impulse to slap him senseless and instead rest a hand on his unmarred cheek, "No Alistair, I'm doing this because I trust you and Riordan-more than Loghain and the others at least-to save as many lives as you can on the way to Fort Drakon. I'd rather have no one other than you at my side, but this isn't about what you or I want. It's about what needs to be done."

"But why me? Why now?" his moss and amber swirled orbs shimmer with unshed wetness, "You have to remember what Cailan did-what Duncan did-to me at Ostagar."

"What good would come from killing the sodding archdemon if we are left with a city filled to the brim with ghouls and burgeoning broodmothers Alistair?" I raise myself up and press a kiss to his lips, "Please love, I beg you, trust me on this."

"I see that during his short absence, our resident Templar seems to have forgotten that you are almost always right," Leliana giggles as she, Sten, and Shale emerge from the shadows.

"Almost is the magic word here Leli," the target of her ribbing replies with a smirk and pulls me into his strong arms,"I've been right once or twice since meeting our fearsome commander, so I'm holding onto the hope that another one will be coming along any day now."

"I wouldn't hedge any bets on that if I were you," Zevran cackles as he appears with his prized bottle of Antivan brandy in hand, "Come my friends, let us share one last drink together before we spit on the boots of Fate and make our own destinies."

Everyone gets a glass-including Shale and Havoc—and we take turns making toasts until the brandy is just a pleasant, albeit fuzzy, memory, and we've moved on to some of Oghren's private stash. It is on the last drink of the night that I finally get up from my stump and raise my glass for what I feel is the most important toast of our little celebration.

"To family, without which all of this would be unbearable," I manage to declare in a clear voice as I focus on each face and memorize it for what may be the last time, "I love each and every single one of you in my own way and want to tell you that it has been and absolute honor to fight at your sides."

"To family!" is the resounding answer.

**:-)**


	33. Chapter 33

**As you well know, this story is rapidly coming to its end. Luckily for you-and me-I'm going to attempt something I've never done before...a sequel! Cue the trumpets! :-) It has been unofficially named Griffon's Rising: The Return of the Grey Wardens and, unless something drastic happens, I think that will end up being the official title as well :-)**

**But I still own nothing Bioware**

The speech Anora had made at dawn is but a distant memory as I roll out of the path of a flying darkspawn maul, then lift the ornately carved horn and blow out all the air I've left in my lungs.

Shale claps her hands together as I call for aid, crushing the oncoming hurlocks skull. "Almost as gratifying as birds," she gives me a stony grin and helps me back to my feet, "And yet nothing like that infernal stone pigeon you tricked me into taking on Feastday."

"I still have that somewhere," I snicker and snatch up Duncan's blade, which I had dropped during the fight, "Remind me to give it back to you, if we survive this."

At that jab, the golem harrumphes and stalks over to Loghain, who is securing a poultice to his forearm.

"The entrance to the fort is just passed this row of buildings," he jerks a thumb over his shoulder when he sees me looking his way, "I think we may be the-"

An ear splitting shriek let out by the archdemon as it soars overhead cuts him off.

"Oi Commander, there's somethin' on its back," Oghren raises a finger and points out a figure just as it slips sideways and onto the right wing of the beast.

"It's Riordan," I surmise, just as the man slams his sword into the thin membrane of the creature's wing, causing it to scream again.

I force myself to keep breathing as we witness his struggle to make his way back astride the archdemon's back, but the leathery flesh shreds time and again, causing Riordan to slide ever further away from his goal.

Then the unspeakable happens.

Urthmiel, flailing in its attempts to remove the Warden, gives its wing a sharp jerk just before it collides with the highest tower of the prison. I cannot bear to watch my comrade fall as the monster claws its way onto the roof and turn to the others, "It's up to us now and the archdemon has been grounded, we strike while we have the chance."

I knew when I planned the routes that my party would be the first to arrive. It is a decision I almost regret as we rush the dozens of darkspawn barring our entrance to the fort. Almost.

As we tear down the enemies defenses, my mind falls into the numb, near trance like state that I'd only experienced a few times in my life. Hack and dodge. Parry and lunge. Sidestep and slice. The hypnotic rhythm of the battle spurns me on, moving through the steps of my macabre dance of death.

Seconds-maybe hours-pass by the time the ragged breathing of my companions becomes clear to me once more. I find myself in a feral crouch, the tainted blood from my numerous wounds flowing down my arms and coating my blades with its poison.

"Eh, I told you it was a rush didn't I, my little rogue berserker?" Oghren punches my shoulder and my head snaps to the right to find the dwarf grinning from ear to ear, "So, are you plannin' on staring at yer handiwork all day, or are we going to kill us an archdemon?"

I straighten up and scan the room. I am surprised to find Leliana and Gabrielle stitching a gash in Sten's leg while Shale and Loghain stand guard at the doors. No sign of Alistair or his group though. "Any sign of the others yet?"

"The songbird swears that she saw two blondes wading through a sea of darkspawn bodies when she peeked out a window on the second level," my stout friend qualifies after taking a long pull from a leather bladder, "According to her, that was less 'an ten minutes before they found us."

"We have to keep moving either way, so they'll just have to catch up," I answer after stealing his flask and taking a generous swig of the burning liquor myself, "Every minute we delay, the number of darkspawn protecting the archdemon increases."

"The dwarves that came with us have cleared the lower levels," Leliana announces as she leaves the Orlesian Warden to finished wrapping the Qunari's leg, "Kardol told me that if those people I saw were Alistair and Zevran that you should have your idiot Templar back anytime now. His words, not mine."

"From what I could see, they had mages and Dalish archers with them as well," Gabrielle adds, not looking up from her work, "We ought to have enough people to distract the other darkspawn while we battle with the demon."

"We must to make haste then," Loghain interjects, Shale nodding in agreement beside him, "There won't be enough room in here for all of us once they begin arriving."

"I know," I offer him Oghren's flask, which he accepts with a cocked eyebrow but takes a drink without question, "If Roland has also managed to survive this long, that would give us five to face Urthmiel. All we have to do now is hope one of us will live long enough to chop the bastard's head off."

"We both know that's why I'm here Com-" Loghain begins but is cut off by two voices as a new group comes bursting into the room.

"Lex!" my husband calls out over Roland's bellowed "Commander!" as Alistair swoops, yes swoops, in for a too brief kiss and hug.

"We thought it was Riordan who fell, but couldn't be certain until now," he feebly explains after his bout of public affection, "I was so worried about you."

"I am fine, considering that there is an archdemon prancing around on the roof over our heads," I reassure my beloved, then frown at the ruined side of his face, "Your eye, it's white!"

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then opens them with a sigh, "It couldn't be helped love. But hey, one eye is better than none, right?"

"You know, with the way you two look now, if we put the two unfuglied halves of your mugs together, you still might make one pretty Warden!" the dwarven berserker cackles.

Alistair reaches out to trace the half inch wide scar running down the left side of my face, even as he throws a leg out and kicks Oghren off his feet. "You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on," he murmurs before kissing me softly, "Maker's breath, I am a lucky man. I love you, my thorny rose."

"As I love you, my god of war," I ignore the wetness now streaking down my cheeks and kiss him with everything I have before resting my forehead to his, "Now let us finish this once and for all."

"Your desire is my command," he flashes me my favorite smile, then steps back to pull his sword and shield, which I notice has been painted with the crest of the Grey Wardens.

I can't help but smile myself as our group clusters around the final door when I realize that clutched in one of the griffon's claws is a single blood red rose. In spite of the devastation all around us, the lighthearted moment brings an old joke to mind. "Alistair, Sten, Shale, and Oghren, BASH THAT DOOR!"

The quartet lets loose a war cry that would have made lesser men wet their drawers as they literally blast the door from its hinges.

"For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!" my husband roars, leading the charge onto the roof of the tower that we know we will not leave alive.

When Gabrielle notices that we have outrun our allies, she cries, "Blow the horn Commander!" without ever slowing the silvery blur of her twin blades.

I slip behind her so that nothing will sneak up behind me, then raise the horn to my lips. Unfortunately for us, the sound it makes draws the attention of the darkspawn. Lots of them. An emissary shows itself amongst the attackers, its hands waving an intricate pattern as it casts.

"Scatter!" I keen and start pulling on the power Alistair had been teaching me how to harness over the past year.

My hands, for the first time, immediately take on the tell tale azure glow and I throw them outwards in an attempt to capture the tainted magic wielder's power. It takes a second, but then I can feel the energy as I clamp down, so I follow what my instincts tell me to do and yank as hard as I can. I laugh at the understanding that I may have pulled a touch too hard when the creature is wrenched forward a few feet before falling on its face.

"Good job love!" the former Templar cheers after smashing a shriek with his shield, "I told you that you would get it eventually!"

I salute him with Starfang, then hasten to rescue Leliana and Shale, who have gotten themselves surrounded by angry genlocks.

I'm less than twenty yards away from the pair when something barrels into me from my left and I'm send skidding across the stone. I glance up to see Roland hovering over me, pulling his blade from another hurlocks skull.

"Thanks," I huff, jumping to my feet and racing to get to my friends.

"Ogres!" Sten trumpets from just ahead and to my right as I scramble through the fray, my enchanted blades eviscerating anything that crosses my path.

Suddenly a shadow crosses over my head and I turn in time to see the archdemon crash land a few feet away, its side riddled with bolts the dwarves had been firing from the ballista. I spin my swords into a more offensive stance after wiping another rivulet of blood from my now broken nose, "I was wondering where you'd run off to."

Urthmiel screams in defiance as I launch myself at it, blades leading the way.

The battle soon melts into a series of dull blips and bright flashes, the deadly song thrumming in my bones once more as we struggle to bring down the great destroyer. The pain in my body rolls off like water on oiled canvas, not nearly as piercing as the agony that comes from within.

The pain of losing my mother, my father, nephew and sister-in-law. The destruction of Ostagar and finding the crucified remains of a young king who dreamt of legendary heroes. The poor souls of Lothering, who'd been abandoned to their fate by the bann who was supposed to protect them. Of Redcliffe, of Connor, and of Eamon, whom we had healed and who had repaid us by trying to tear us apart. The hollow feeling inside when Alistair, then Morrigan, had simply walked away.

All of this I pour into every swing, every thrust, every slice as we systematically carve the corrupted dragon into bits.

Roland is thrown back into the fight still raging behind us after he drives his great sword into the monster's back, effectively severing its spine and leaving its once dangerous hind legs useless. Gabrielle is the next to fall, the claw marks on her back spewing tiny rivers of blood over her unmoving form. I nearly surrender to my sorrow when Alistair is hit with the the full force of a wing bash meant for me, but the hoarse shouts of a mage telling me that he still lives keeps my feet from giving up their position.

It is not lost on me that Loghain and I are now the only Wardens left.

"When the time comes, let me take its head!" the aged warrior crows over the dragon's cries for help, "We both know this is what I am here for. Let me restore honor to my name and my family."

Just as he concludes his speech, the wounded beast crumples to the ground and, before I can respond, Loghain drops the axes he had picked up to replace his shattered blade and starts climbing up the dragon. He reaches Roland's sword—which is still lodged in the archdemon's back-then staggers towards the head. I try to follow, but am tackled to the ground by Zevran and a revived Alistair, their eyes never leaving the other Warden as he continues his trek across the monstrosity.

"He has made his choice sorella," Zevran declares even as I try to squirm out of their grip, "Let him fulfill the destiny he has made for himself."

"But it is my duty! Mine! I'm supposed to die, not him!" I cry, but my words fall on deaf ears.

Urthmiel musters enough energy to lift that massive head from the ground just as the man gets close enough to strike. Using the momentum of the creature's movement, Loghain thrusts the blade into the top of its skull.

Then the sky explodes with a blinding white light.


	34. Chapter 34

**Okay kiddies, this is the last chapter of From Rebellious Noble to Warden Commander.**

**Yes, this also is where I beg for reviews because I'm a weak, weak girl today ;-)**

**You know who owns all things Dragon Age and, sadly, it's not me.**

I feel myself moving up and down as my world shifts back into focus. I try to squirm around, but am squeezed closer to a metal clad form.

"I have you Lex, you're safe," Alistair murmurs as it dawns on me that he is carrying me-a nearly six foot tall rogue clad in heavy leathers-in his arms.

"Is it over?" I force myself to ask in a whisper while lifting my arms and locking them around his neck.

"It is," is the nearly inaudible reply and I crack open an eye to see the lavishly decorated ceiling of the royal palace passing overhead.

"You carried me all the way to the palace from Fort Drakon?" my throat is set aflame when I force myself to use my full voice and I have to choke down a pained cry that threatens to escape.

"Shale actually lugged you most of the way, until Sten fell over and needed help. I am not ashamed to say that I opted to carry my breathtaking wife over the cantankerous Qunari," his grimy face splits into an impish grin, "It's the thought that counts though, right?"

I hum in response and let my head fall against his breastplate, not bothered in the least by the gore splashed on it.

The next time I become aware of my surroundings, the gentle drumming of rain is the first thing I notice. I blearily look around the opulent chamber and surmise that I must still be in the palace. "Alistair?"

"Welcome back pup," Fergus lilts as he comes into view, "Sleep well?"

"Where is everyone?" I press, running a finger down my nose to find it set and healed straighter than it had been in a long time.

"Sleeping, I'd wager," he shrugs and drops into a chair that is sitting next to the bed, "But the sun will be up soon, so I think they will be as well."

It occurs to me that I haven't been harangued by a smelly canine yet. "What about Havoc, is he alright?"

"The healers haven't been letting him stay in here at night because he kept crawling onto the bed with you. He's taken to following Alistair about, despite still recovering from his wounds, but I think he'll be back to raiding larders soon enough," my brother concludes with a soft chuckle.

I hear the door open and close, hearkening a new arrival.

"Fergus, I just wanted to check on Lex bef..." Wynne loses her train of thought as she comes around the corner and finds me grinning evilly at her.

In a flash, I find myself being smothered against her ample bosom as she hugs the life out of me, "Oh Maker, you're awake!"

"Wow Nonna, it's good to see you too," I mumble into her robes and she jumps back, allowing me to fill my lungs again, "How long have I been out of commission?"

"Three-almost four-nights and days," the senior enchanter confesses as she fusses over the handful of bandages still decorating my physique, "And I'm sorry to say that your insufferable husband was banned from coming in without a sensible escort since the first afternoon."

"Wouldn't be the first time he's been banned from someplace," I chuckle, then hiss when her fingers glide over a sore spot on my thigh, "Damn, that still smarts a bit..."

"Don't be such a baby," Wynne tuts, straightening herself and replacing the quilt over my lower half, "I've seen you take down two ogres single handedly with a split skull, several broken ribs and a shattered shoulder; a bruise should barely even register. Oh! Before I forget!"

She pulls a gold chain with a gold band on it from around her neck and loops it over my head, "I had to remove it to work on you the other night and, since Alistair was also unconscious at the time, I held on to it for safekeeping."

"Held on to what for safekeeping?" my husband interjects, then scarcely avoids knocking the mage over when he dives onto the bed and hugs me, "You're finally awake! I was beginning to think that I was going to have to use some of Oghren's dirty socks to rouse you."

"That would have killed me for sure," I giggle and sink into his waiting embrace, "Maybe you should have tried using some of Leli's scrumptious pumpkin bread instead."

"Yeesss, I'll have to remember that the next time you decide to sleep for half a week," he grins and captures my lips for a tender kiss, then leans back to hold up a single scarlet rose, "I found this in your pack and thought it might help. Turns out I was right, though you never told me that you had it enchanted..."

I reach up and stroke the feathery petals, "Morrigan did it for me the morning after I found it and the bangle in my tent. She didn't say a word either, just reached out and touched it when I was sitting in front of my tent looking at it. It's looked the same ever since."

His fingers trace my now bare wrist, its adornment forever lost somewhere within Fort Drakon, "I have to find you another bracelet, you look naked without one."

Knowing that this is one of those battles I have no chance of winning, I simply snuggle into his larger-and much warmer-form, "Whatever you want my love."

As I emerge from my rooms two hours later-scrubbed squeaky clean for the first time in months and wearing a dark blue velvet gown with a cream colored silk chemise peeking out from underneath- I'm not so understanding. It seems that wearing my customary leather breeches was out of the question because of the wound on my thigh, but I suspect it had more to do with Wynne and Leliana finally getting a chance to squeeze me into something more feminine than any injury I may have sustained fighting the archdemon.

"Wow...just wow!" Alistair so eloquently declares when he finally sees me, and extends a hand to brush away a few stray locks that have managed to get free of the two tiny braids holding the rest of my hair out of my face, "You are truly a goddess."

"Mmm, not bad yourself," I purr, giving an approving smile at his black leather breeches and jerkin that are draped over a pale ivory tunic, "Are the others up and about yet?"

His plump bottom lips juts out into a pout, "Yes they are, and waiting for us to come down to breakfast. Otherwise I would throw you over my shoulder this minute and take you back to your room to be thoroughly ravished."

"I'll meet you back up here afterwards then," I promise before tugging him back into motion, "But I'm starving and we can't hide from them all day."

"Says you," he grumbles as Fergus and Anora come out of their rooms and fall into step beside us.

"You sound like Fergus," the queen laughs at the former Templar as she loops her arm through her lover's, "I told him that he'll have to get used to it now that he's going to be king."

"Better him than me," Alistair retorts, but his trademark grins reappears when I stretch up and press my lips to his ravaged cheek.

"One of my brethren, in charge of Ferelden, that is a terrifying thought," I tease then dissolve into laughter when the sibling in question maturely sticks his tongue out at me, "Are you sure you want to do that Anora?"

She bobs her head in Alistair's direction. "It's better than the alternative-especially since you would've wiped the floor with me had I suggested it."

"Ooh, a fight between two beautiful women? Will they be gloriously naked?" my favorite Antivan jests as the temporary dining hall comes into view, then pauses when he notices my dress, "Never mind naked, the visions I see before me are infinitely more ravishing."

"I love you too fratello," I gladly accept a hug from the elf and am mildly surprised when my normally overprotective spouse releases his hold on me so that Zevran can wind his arm around my waist and escort me into the chamber.

"You and Alistair seem to have finally worked out your differences," I comment in a low voice as Mischa and her husband lead us to where our family is waiting.

"We had ourselves a little talk and came to the realization that our ongoing feud was doing nothing but hurting the woman we both hold dear," he elaborates while pulling out a chair and helping me into it, "So we decided to let the past stay in the past. Simple really."

"Of course what neither of these two louts are going to mention is that their epiphany came to them while they were sitting in a puddle, bleeding and covered in mud from trying to kill each other," Leliana tattles in a sing song tone that is riddled with giggles.

I look to my left, then my right, to glower at the men seated on either side, and gesture for Wynne to switch places with me, "Sic 'em Nonna, I've decided that I'm going with Sten to find some cake."

The entire table bursts into laughter as the giant and I skulk off in search of sweets.

Six days later, I find myself glaring at my husband all over again.

"You are not naming the damn dog Barkspawn Alistair!" I growl, referring to the smoke gray mabari laying in front of his feet, her paws over her face.

"And why not? It's a perfectly fine name for a Grey Warden's mabari," he vehemently argues, unleashing the full force of his sad puppy eyes—erm eye-upon me.

"Ali, she is a girl and girls like to feel pretty," I try to cajole him with a softer tone, "Having a name like Barkspawn would have the exact opposite effect."

He mulls it over for a few minutes, then snaps his fingers, "What about Cheddar? You know how much I adore cheddar cheese."

I don't get a chance to answer as the war hound leaps to her feet and begins yapping excitedly at her imprint.

"I think she likes her new name," Alistair smirks, now with a pair of massive paws on his chest and a blocky muzzle licking at his face, "Alright then Ser mabari, I hereby dub thee Cheddar, queen of Ferelden's four legged Grey Wardens."

"You know, it's a little disturbing how close you Fereldans are with your pets," Zevran snickers, sauntering into the room then folding himself into a nearby chair, "It reminds me of a woman I knew in Antiva. She and her large canine friend made thousands of sovereigns doing private perfo-"

I hold up a hand to stop him before he can do any more damage, "We have to be shown off to the entire city in under half an hour fratello, I do not want that image popping into my head every time I see a woman standing beside a dog."

"Perdonami sorella," the elf's visage is curled into an unrepentant grin, "I would not dare distract the Hero of Ferelden on her big day."

"Please don't call me that," I groan in exasperation as I grab my baldrics and strap them on, "I hate that title. I'm not a hero the way they think I am. Heroes just get other people killed."

"Lex, we're alive because of what you've done," my lug of a husband retaliates before giving me a kiss and pulling my gray mantle over my shoulders, "Shut up and enjoy the praise while it lasts."

"Commander, the king and queen are awaiting your arrival," Gavin-our Chaisnd ranger recruit-interrupts in his lightly accented tenor, "When shall I tell them to expect you?"

"We're on our way now," I inform the dark haired man and tuck my new helm under my arm, "Now grab Mischa and go enjoy the festivities."

"Yes Ser," he grins and slips out of the room with barely a whisper of sound.

"He will make a good protoge if he survives the Joining," Zevran comments as we file out of the room and down the stairs towards the audience hall.

"You managed to live through it, so I don't see why he wouldn't," I tease, bumping his shoulder with my own.

"That was the worst hangover of my life. I still can't believe that I actually asked for you to do that to me," he chortles, but immediately quiets as we pass through the arches and into the antechamber.

"You're almost late to your own party pup," Fergus banters after hugging me, then leans back to examine my new leathers, "Commander of the Grey, clad in the hide of the archdemon. I cannot believe Alistair had it made for you."

I run a hand over the ink black armor and shrug a shoulder, "What can I say? My husband always thinks up the best gifts."

"That he does," my sibling concurs, tapping a finger on the braided silver ivy and gold rose bracelet hanging from my wrist, "We are ready to begin whenever you are baby girl."

"Is never an option?" I query, already aware that escape is most definitely _not_ an option at this point.

"You wish," the new king impishly smirks as the guards pull open the massive doors that lead to the courtyard.

"Presenting the Hero of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey Wardens..."

**And so ends From Rebellious Noble to Warden Commander. But fear not, they will return in the next installment, Griffon's Rising: The Return of the Grey Wardens.**

**I want to thank each and every single one of you for your time, your interest, and your heart warming words. I hope to have the first chapter of Griffon's Rising typed out and posted by the weekend now, so cross your fingers and hope nothing distracts me lol**


	35. SEQUEL ANNOUNCEMENT

**The sequel is up!**

**It's called**

**Griffon's Rising: The Return of the Grey Wardens**

***HUGS***

**Raven**


	36. Cyberbullying is a Crime

**As posted on my profile.**

**Oh, and I've heard that the LU (Literate Union) is back on the prowl, trolling and harassing authors everywhere. You've tried to take me down before and LOST, so don't bother. I'm neither amused nor intimidated by your antics. Just go back to your corner and play god amongst yourselves, the rest of us have better things to do.**

**On that note, I am encouraging authors/readers to report any reviews/PMs you receive from any member of the LU or other gang-banging flamers club then IMMEDIATELY block them from being able to contact you. Always remember,**

**CYBERBULLYING IS A CRIME.**


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